Her Green Figs

Congrats, Joss!

2008-02-24T15:17:00.002-05:00

About the book (from the author's own website)

Laurel Gray Hawthorne needs to make things pretty, whether she's helping her mother make sure the very literal family skeleton stays buried or turning scraps of fabric into nationally acclaimed art quilts. Her estranged sister Thalia, an impoverished Actress with a capital A, is her polar opposite, priding herself on exposing the lurid truth lurking behind middle class niceties. While Laurel's life seems neat and on track--a passionate marriage, a treasured daughter, and a lovely home in suburban Victorianna--everything she holds dear is suddenly thrown into question the night she is visited by the ghost of a her 14-year old neighbor Molly Dufresne.
The ghost leads Laurel to the real Molly floating lifelessly in the Hawthorne's backyard pool. Molly's death is inexplicable--an unseemly mystery Laurel knows no one in her whitewashed neighborhood is up to solving. Only her wayward, unpredictable sister is right for the task, but calling in a favor from Thalia is like walking straight into a frying pan protected only by Crisco. Enlisting Thalia's help, Laurel sets out on a life-altering journey that triggers startling revelations about her family's guarded past, the true state of her marriage, and the girl who stopped swimming.

Heat

2007-07-05T19:09:00.000-04:00

Today's schedule:
6:30 wake up, brush teeth, get dressed (where are all my shorts?!)
7:00 drive dog to river and walk 5 miles
8:30 feed dog, eat cereal, glare at messy kitchen
9:00 nap with dog
10:30 shower
11:00 iron clothing (I haven't ironed in YEARS!)
11:30 blow-dry hair, makeup
12:00 lock up dog, get cash from bank, find parking
12:28 (for 12:30 date) stand at entrance to restaurant and wait
12:36 glance at time, pick up free paper and read, even though I've already read it
12:43 start to do paper's crossword in pen
12:52 walk back to car, drive home--confused, disappointed, annoyed, embarassed
12:59 uncage dog, eat chicken, wander house thinking how much needs to be done and how I don't want to do any of it
1:45 email date expressing fear of having missed him, hope for his well-being, resignation to his likely disinterest, and suggestions for repair
1:55 flip on some movie. Feel bad for having accomplished nothing during day.
2:20 nap
6:05 wake, call Mom to make plans for her to drill sergeant my ass for getting this house cleaned up
6:25 read response from date, written partly in Latin (surprisingly attractive), explaining absence due to termites but mostly humiliation for simply having forgotten our plans. Believe sincerity of regret but wonder at intelligence of pursuing relationship anyway. Feel bad for having accomplished nothing during day.
6:35 even though not really hungry, eat 3 cold tacos while reading chapter 3 of Wise Blood. Feel bad for having accomplished nothing during day.
6:52 realize that I have an article due on Monday, have no draft, thesis, interview appointments, or photos and freak out
7:05 return to computer to research/draft article
7:06 look at eBay
7:08 look at Reuters and BBC
7:13 look at livejournal of troubling (and possibly troubled) young woman I know who keeps attacking people I like
7:14 email. Feel bad for having accomplished nothing during day.
7:28 post day's events to Blogger in hopes of divining some wisdom.
7:29 Gain no insight. Feel bad for having accomplished nothing during day.

Screwing Up Left and Right

2007-03-31T20:55:00.000-04:00

and Up and Down
and Forward and Backward

Nothing tragic, but all sorts of little stuff.

I was supposed to judge a cooking contest. I got the directions and the address and wrote it in my Palm. I got up an hour early so I could take the dog to the park and tire her out so she wouldn't mind staying in her crate all day. I didn't leave enough time, but she got a decent run. No time to make coffee for me or dry my hair or find the instructions for the judging though.

I stopped to buy petrol for the car, even though I didn't really have enough time. CRAZY prices, and I didn't fill up all the way because I'm really poor.

Couldn't find my friend's house so called him when I was 10 minutes late and realized I was on the completely wrong side of a major road.

Smashed a CD case to splinters accidentally.

Drove right to the place, parked way far away, walked up to sign in and was told there was nothing for us to do. We arrived at 10:18 for a 10:00 call. As it turns out, the call was for 9, but I screwed up.

The town was having a festival, so we walked around a little and it was a little infuriating and packed with all the usual festival craft show crap. When did festivals start being all about bullshit crafts?

Hiked back to the car and drove to another, smaller, town and ate at the diner. It was fine, not great (except for the cole slaw and the peach cobbler which were excellent).

Friend asked for story about mysteriously visiting ex two weeks ago. I told a longer story that inspired me to burst into ugly tears which inspired my friend to burst into sympathetic tears which made me feel much much worse.

Drove home. Received a registered letter of foreboding horror from my insurance company. Didn't open it.

Tried to nap; failed.

Cooked a steak; was pestered by dog while eating and couldn't enjoy it.

Was invited to "get shitty drunk" with friend, but would rather stay home and feel sorry for myself.

Cooking peach cobbler. If it burns or sets fire to the house, it will round out my day perfectly.

I Suppose I Might be a Dog After All

2007-02-26T19:03:00.000-05:00

From The Other End of the Leash, by Patricia McConnell, " Retracting the commissure in dogs signifies submission or fear. Sometimes it has a similar significance in humans: some researchers believe that human smiles evolved from the submissive grimaces seen in many primate species. We're all familiar with happy smiles but think of all the smiles you've seen that were related, to some degree, to nervousness. Perhaps you, like me, have smiled when you wished you wouldn't, anxiously awaiting test results or submissively seeking favors from someone in authority. Primates also have a similar expression, somewhat akin to a nervous or submissive 'smile,' termed the 'open mouth bared tooth display,' which is associated with relaxed, friendly, social contact."

Two people have given me grief about looking "unhappy" at choir events. I've been accused most of my life of looking miserable. I'm also told that I frighten people. Think these may be related? Perhaps I am a bit of a dog, like those jerks in junior high said.

Great Saturday

2007-02-24T21:52:00.000-05:00

1. Watered shrubs all night, so went over to house at 8 this morning to switch the soaker hoses. While I waited to pick up J, I climbed into my new bed and read three Jill McCorkle short stories. It was delightful.
2. Picked up J with sausage biscuits at 10:13 exactly, as requested.
3. Shopped for dog toys at Target.
4. Drove out towards Sumter to find the dog. Got a tour of SC's cocaine trade transfer point.
5. Met, played with, confirmed accurate analysis of my new dog, soon to be renamed Guinness.
6. Visited J's mother and watched them play Nintendo Wii. I could really have fun with one of those!
7. Ate lunch at a famous diner: smoked sausage, biscuits, macaroni casserole, best coleslaw ever, butter peas, and peach cobbler. The coleslaw and cobbler were nearly worth the trip on their own.
8. Sang the Carmina Burana through twice.
9. Bought new gym clothes and ingredients to make my own peach cobbler.
10. Edited and submitted first article for paper.
11. Made peach cobbler (not so good! too much baking powder, not enough sugar).
12. Invented new cocktails: fennel-infused vodka, pink grapefruit juice, tonic, chipped ice; gin muddled with cantaloupe plus black pepper vodka and peach liqueur
13. Watched Ray.
14. Cuddled under electric blanket.

I Just Done a Line

2007-02-21T21:14:00.000-05:00

of Chunky Chips Ahoy! like the cartoon ones on TV who sing and are surprised when they are eaten. They are dreadful, awful, bland, salty, powdery, crumbly disks of nonsense and only qualify as a "treat" because they have 80 calories each. RIDICULOUS! NAUSEATING!

Today in class I assigned some group class work and my students proceeded to talk so loud about so many unrelated things for such duration that I really lost my patience with them. I encourage a friendly, easygoing, fun atmosphere, but I still expect them to shut the hell up when I'm trying to teach. Apparently, I expect wrong.

After class, I came home and played in the kitchen. I loaded and ran the dishwasher (everything's dirtier than when it went in again) and scrubbed the counters and stove then I cleaned out (most of) the fridge (I put off emptying and washing the yoghurt maker container again) and scrubbed it down. I emptied the chicken soup out of the stock pot and into freezer bags and froze them. That's when the fun began. I baked chicken in cabernet with lots of thyme, two who cubano peppers (sadly, no anchos at the market today), and two quartered onions. While that cooked, I browned ground beef and sausage with a bunch of oregano in the washed stock pot and pureed carrots and celery and green peppers and onions and garlic and bunged that on top of the meat. I topped that with 7 cans of diced tomatoes and two cans of tomato paste and cooked it down to a good colour and consistency. It's a bit too salty, unfortunately. While that bubbled, I simmered a can of tomato sauce with salt and pepper and thyme and pureed carrots in a small saucepan. While that got going, I pulled the chicken out of the oven and shredded it in the food processor (with the companion onions and peppers) with a can of black beans. I used that and a pound and a half of shredded Monterrey Jack to roll enchiladas. I made 12, four to a casserole. I topped them with the sauce and sprinkled a little more cheese on top. They're sitting in the fridge ready to heat up, except I gave one dish to K and M. I had some of the bolagnese for a late lunch with some rotini. It's looks better than it tastes.

Rehearsal was putrid. I feel really ugly and stupid and hated nearly every time I'm there. And yet I keep going back. K even moved away from me several times, going so far as to trade seats with someone. I realized a couple of Sundays ago that I am a MUCH better singer, and a happier one, when she is not there. I think it is because I respect her skill a great deal, and she has never once complimented me on any part of my musical ability. She talks about other people's musicianship probably 70% of our conversational time, and the omission of comment on mine is enormously telling and hurts me deeply.

I have been approved to adopt a DARLING little pup from the pound in a neighbouring county. She's younger and less trained (not at all trained) than I had wanted, but she really seems to be calling my name. I have people lined up to give me a doggie bed and water dish and leash and collar. I'm hoping someone will have a cage to share. They are quite expensive. The thoughts of handing her a toy or scratching her head whilst I grade papers makes me smile. I think she will be good for me.

Tomato Slaughter

2007-02-19T21:03:00.000-05:00

I have three trays of seedlings going... about 250 plants (peppers, tomatoes, oregano, aubergine, tobacco, flowers, weeds) and they make me really cheerful! They're so healthy and vigourous and ambitious. They inspire me. The tomatoes have gone a bit crazy though, they're too tall for the dome, so they're bending and weaving about and the poor peppers interplanted aren't getting as much light as they I'd like, and the tomatoes are confused, so I thought I'd mini-stake them with wooden plant labels and cut up red satin ribbon from my Valentine's package. Well, tomato seedlings are more brittle than I expected. I'm afraid I savagely severed a few of them. Luckily, I bought rooting hormone earlier today, so I tried to get them back in the grow sponge. Fingers crossed. I feel bad about it. I trimmed out the new leaves on top of them so they'll (hopefully) grow a little sturdier and stouter.

The pepper plants look lovely! short and dark and glossy and determined. Also looking good: aubergine, coriander, nicotiana.

Books Everyone Should Read

2007-02-18T20:47:00.000-05:00

According to my students (sometimes they make me want to cry):

The Odsisye
To Kill A Mockendird
Bowel Wolf / Bewolf / Beaowolf
Angels and Demonds
Herosheima (if he means Hiroshima, good idea!)
Winning Everyday by Lou Holtz
everything by Zane
Night (yay!)
Clifford the Big Red Dog
The Autobiography of Marilyn Manson
Huckle Berry Fin ("the only book I read in highschool I understood")
Canneberry Tales

Then, of course, there's the thoughtfully annotated list from my favourite student, the stripper. It's great. Really, really great!

Pain

2007-02-14T23:36:00.000-05:00

I am in so much pain that:

I cannot catch my breath,
I cannot stop myself from trembling all over,
I am moaning and crying aloud,
I have no problem imagining what it means to be inspired to rend garments,
and I just prayed.

What Animal Are You?

2007-02-12T19:22:00.000-05:00

Don't know how we got on the topic, but KM and I were discussing which were our (various people and us) animal selves. Her husband thinks he's a grizzly bear, but he's really a brown bear. She mentioned pumas for herself, but Gummy Bear is probably more accurate. She asked me and I think of myself mostly like a bushel burlap sack of waxy potatoes, but that's not an animal, so I asked her to pick my animal. My Valentine's-Day-week-self-confidence has not been bolstered by her choice of "elephant." I asked her if this was because I'm humongous and clumsy and dumb-looking and old and slow. She said it was because I am "wise" (gag) and "frightening and clumsy looking but really quite gentle." Super, right? I think I'll slit my wrists now.

So, I guess I should come up with an aspirational animal now, so I can work towards something instead of dwelling on my elephantine qualities. Giraffe would be okay--tall and exotic and graceful, or flamingo--strange and attractive and festive, or panther--sleek and rare and powerful.

Blast! Go take this test (http://www.animalinyou.com/survey.a. It says I am an elephant or walrus or possibly a hippo. I don't want to be any of those animals! Here is its description of elephant: "An elephant personality is a person whose deliberate movements exude confidence and calm in all aspects of his or her life. While maybe not the king of the animal word, it is surely a member of the royal family. With an imposing physical presence and kind, spiritual demeanor, it moves easily through life where few barriers can hold it back. There's a touch of cool in the stoic elephant that's appealing and reassuring. In all probability this composure stems from the knowledge that they have no natural enemies; for even the lion and crocodile personalities pay homage by giving them a respectful berth. Only the unpredictable tiger has been known to trigger any semblance of anxiety in this otherwise fearless animal. But even the sober elephant is prone to tantrums, proving to be enormously disagreeable if it believes it has been wronged. And for the record: elephants don't forget. Fortunately these moods are rare and confined mainly to the male of the species, but when an outburst does occur, all should evacuate the area until the drama has played itself out. When elephants set their minds to something, they don't waver in their commitment until the task is complete. Their intelligence, combined with a formidable personality, gives them a terrific advantage in business and social affairs while their communication skills make them first-rate leaders. Trustworthy and honest, they always let others know where they stand with regard to their feelings. Their vocal skills make them excellent singers and musicians, and their sober natures align them with the classical arts rather than contemporary music. In business, they are usually found in leadership roles as CEOs or company presidents. And although they're highly paid, they are never ostentatious with their wealth. If you think that it's just the elephants' size that impresses its lovers, you'd be mistaken. Sure size matters, but it's more than just physical prowess that has given rise to the legend of the elephant lover. Certainly it isn't for their looks; elephants are somewhat underwhelming with their plain gray appearances -- it's because elephants are able to inject so much emotional and physic energy into a relationship that lovers find them so compelling."

That doesn't sound so bad, I guess. Their description of walrus doesn't fit me at all, but I have some characteristics of the hippo.

Oh right, we got on the subject because we were trying to decide if Kirsten Dunst was more like a shrew or a vole and whether there was any difference.

Niggling Comments Keeping Me From Sleep

2007-02-05T23:35:00.000-05:00

1. "Have you ever tried any of those dating Web sites?"
"No."
"Well wouldn't that be way to help you feel a little better about things?"
[Uh, no, pretty much exactly the opposite. The only man interested in me whatsoever is unattractive, whiney, morose, pathetic, charisma-free, tacky, and married. TO YOU! Oh, and except for the married part, he's exactly like me. Nobody wants to date somebody like that. I found this pin on Cafepress the other day and really thought about getting it for myself. I have absolutely nothing to offer in way of pleasant temporary romantic partnership to anyone. So no, I don't have a listing on Match.com.]

2. "Did I wake you?"
[Even though it's 11:45 on a Monday night] "No, I'm in the car. What's up?"
"Why are you in the car?"
"I think I may have forgotten to lock the front door at the house, so I'm going over there to check. Any maybe get brutally murdered by a neighbourly crackhead."
"You really should think about maybe calling someone when you do stuff like that, so that if you're never heard from again, they could at least tell the police that, last they heard, you were driving to the ghetto at midnight."
[Who in the hell would care or possibly even notice if I were shot in a bungled burglary at my own house in the ghetto?!] "Yeah, well, I figure the less evidence I leave the better."
"Right, well, whatever. I'm calling to tell you..."

I have not finished my syllabus for the new course I'm going to try to teach starting next week. Nor have I read the book.

I have not packed anything, which will be a real problem for the movers I have scheduled to come in two days.

I do not have the money to pay both the plumber, who will be working tomorrow, and the movers, who are supposed to come Thursday.

It is unlikely that I will get any classes to teach this summer.

The nearly perfect job for me is currently open at an itty bitty school about 45 minutes away. It's a real 4 year school. I can't apply, since I can't even get admitted to a PhD program, much less finish one.

There is a job open at an unaccredited historically black college with 10 students and collapsing buildings that requires only the MA I already have. There's an excellent chance that it pays worse than I make as an adjunct at the tech school. Plus, am I not the whitest white girl who's ever lived?!

I read a story about two girls, missing for a month, recently found, dead of carbon monoxide poisoning, in a car parked off some rural road in suburban DC. Peaceful suicide. My first reaction? Envy.

Snow Day

2007-02-01T18:18:00.000-05:00

It snowed today for the first time in about 4 years. Nothing special, but it does mean pancakes! I made basic baking powder (not yeast) pancakes filled with chopped pecans and fresh blueberries and topped with sweet butter and wildflower honey, served with warm vanilla milk. Yum.

A couple of days ago I made chicken enchiladas, except they were so good I never got around to making the sauce and we ate them dry. One and a half chicken breasts broasted in cabernet with black pepper and toasted garlic with one enormous ancho on top and three quartered onions stuffed around the sides. All that went in the food processor with a can of diced tomatoes, some salt, and a couple shakes of Crystal until shreddy. Put that inside some big ole tortillas with some Monterrey Jack and baked until crispy. Next time I'll make the sauce first.

Grad school application turned in.
Music critic job applied for.
Claim submitted for stolen car.
Dishes cleaned. Floor swept.

Green figs, indeed!

2007-01-06T21:01:00.000-05:00

I haven't gardened in ages. My brother and I made a Mother's Day bed for our mom a couple of years ago, but it was 6 months before that when I last had my own garden to work. Today, I got my hands dirty again.

It was 75 degrees and sunny here, and Mother Nature DEMANDED that I go outside. I've spent the last week ordering seeds (mosty veg) and plants (mosty small fruit) and planning my new garden. Today, I raked out the paths I think I'll do in the back kitchen garden, and planted two blueberries I got for 75% off several weeks ago. That was so rewarding that I decided to tackle bigger projects.

I dug up 3 dozen border bricks from around a lame bed that I'm extending by 700% and moved them over to outline a new path.

I dug up 6 azaleas that have no place in my kitchen garden and moved them to the front of the house to fill up the lawn and screen the road.

I extended the shrub border at the front corner (it's a corner lot) with more 75% off shrubs: 1 viburnum, 3 spirea, 2 berberis, 3 buddleia, 2 weigela, 2 cotoneaster, plus 1 tree (Japanese maple) and 1 grass (penisetum) and those azaleas, of course. I cannot WAIT until July to see how much they've filled in. Once I cut in the new driveway, I think I can fill in the rest of that wedge with transplants from friends/relatives (nandina, hydrangea, other?) and perennials. That's a lot of lawn I won't have to mow!

The soil in the front yard is gorgeously textured and rich! It was a cinch to dig and seems to require no amendment. I'm THRILLED. The kitchen garden area was much harder to dig (in part due to the 3-4 remaining stumps and associated roots, one of which I chose to plant the blueberries near).

I wish I knew which box (still umoved and unpacked) contained my seeds and related gear. I've got tons. Somewhere.

Soon I will be planting 11 new blackberry bushes and some scuppernongs (if I can find some I like) along the back fences (6' wood picket--VERY private), then filling in the front of those with squash and beans and cukes, and tomatoes, and peppers, and eggplant, and herbs, and carrots, and spinach, and cabbage, and Burssel's Sprouts, and collards, and shallots, and garlic, and horseradish, and peas, and beans, and leeks, and fennel, and okra, oh my. There's an old clothesline I haven't bothered to take down, and now I think I'll use it to trellis watermelon or pumpkins (or both). Great solution! Oh, and I'll probably scatter zinnias in there with the food. And nasturtiums and marigolds?

With the state of my seed order and the state of my brand new kitchen and the size of my new dining room, I can't wait for people to hang out at my house all summer eating really well.

I want a few more things for the kitchen garden. 1. I want to fill in the paths with rock or something similarly permanent (outlined by the brick I'm tearing up from the old, ugly path). 2. I want more blueberries. 3. I want a banana tree or three. 4. I want 3 fig trees (green-ripe figs, of course!). 5. I want to trellis kiwi over/around the ugly ugly shed. 6. I want to build a new arch over the back gate (wider, taller) and plant it with the jessamine I got for 70% off (which is blooming today!!!) and a hops vine. 7. I want to dig up the liriope along the old path and use it to replace the lawn in the front. It's not so very much to do, all things considered. Course, this presupposes that I do a good job starting my seeds (ordered new Park's "Bio-Domes"!) and get everything in the ground properly and the weather cooperates and a few other things.

Phrases That May Kill Me if I Read Them One More Time

2006-09-26T21:24:00.000-04:00

90 student essays to read and grade. Kinda makes you want to gouge out your eyes, really. These are your average argumentative essay and largely uncompelling.

It doesn't matter if the paper is about boats or pets or euthenasia or abortion, these are the two phrases that, if I read them even one more time, I may just fall over dead from linguistic exhaustion.

"In today's society..."

"due to the fact that" (seldom followed by an actual fact)

Could I put in next semester's syllabus that I'm going to subtract one point from students' final grades every time they use one of these phrases?

In Which I Outsmart Myself Yet Again

2006-09-24T22:03:00.000-04:00

Hey, guess what? I can NOT earn my measly adjunct salary and still receive unemployment benefits because, even though this salary is not quite half of what I used to earn, it is still more than the unemployment would be. I'm allowed to earn as much as 25% of my benefit which is only $75/week based on the maximum benefit of $303/week. Thus, by adding those extra sections to my semester's schedule, I self-eliminated my chance to get paid for doing nothing. Damn! As sorry as I feel for myself with my horrendous drop in cash, I am alarmed also at the astoundingly low expectations for everyone else's salaries. I'm amazed that people can get by on so little and yet I struggle with so much. I need a budget. One that factors in my new $375/month COBRA payment. I have to stop paying rent and really move into my house. Jeez. I really could have used that extra $300/month. I really could.

I need to sell a book.
Or this condo.
Or my other car.
Or drugs.
Or all my furniture.

Dear god, what am I going to do?!

Response to Horoscopes

2006-09-13T16:41:00.000-04:00

"Before you go anywhere with your dating life, you have to learn to speak up. Remaining silent about your needs doesn't help anyone, least of all you. Get some gumption and your self-confidence will grow."

"Share your feelings about your most important values with someone you respect. This will help you clarify your own position. "

Two horoscopes today tell me to confess my innermost desires and not to shy away from allowing them to be romantic. So, in case you're wondering, I desire he who is tall, dark, handsome, insular, artistic, almost more in love with his buddies and brothers than he is with me, protective, confident, scruffy, hungry, kind to animals, flirtatious to children, friendly, good-timing, slightly lazy, employed in a field I respect and understand but in which I do not excel, well-endowed with lips and balance, funny, witty, content. And if he could possibly love me, that would be even better.

Resistance

2006-09-11T20:59:00.000-04:00

My house has been broken into four times in the last two weeks. I was perfectly aware of the risk and willing to accept it when I bought into that neighborhood, so I wasn't surprised or much upset until this last time. This time they took my big, fancy, expensive, never-used grill off my back porch. This makes me mad. I'm quite happy to buy all new lawn equipment and bicycles and power tools like they liberated from my shed, but taking my grill is going too far. I've gotta call the insurance company.

I met the nicest cops this last time. They stuck around and chatted for almost an hour when they came to write up the report. They confirmed that I'm doing almost everything I can for the house: lights, curtains, etc. I did order a security system, though, which I'll install tomorrow once UPS brings it. The cops also suggested that I really really need to move in. I know that. They agreed that a dog would be smart too.

And I've been thinking about getting a dog anyway. I thought I wanted a chocolate lab (mixed with beagle, if possible), but I took this breed matcher quiz thing on the Animal Planet Website and they had some other suggestions, though the lab is a good match for me too. I'll need a fence though.

Tomorrow I WILL WRITE THE WORKSHOP for Wednesday. I've put it off for 9 months, so tomorrow really is the very last possible moment. Go me. I can't wait to get it over with. I can hardly say how very much I don't want to do it, though putting it off for 9 months should give you a clue.

I want to take Thursday as a little vacation, which I will have earned by doing the stupid workshop. I want to drive down to the beach and sit in a chair and read a book and let the wind whip my hair and coat my face with salt and then I want to walk for miles up and down the shore looking for sea glass and porpoise. However, I have invited MGBF to join me, and, if he goes, we will have a cooler of fancy snacks and swim then dinner at the Post Office. A different experience, but also nice. Since he doesn't seem to be talking to me much anymore, though, he will likely not acknowledge my invitation. Either way, I can stop at my favorite roadside farm market on earth and stock up on pimiento cheese, tomato pie, and pecan bars.

Who needs to paint walls and pry up the weird asbestos lining that was under the cabinets Dad and I ripped out on Saturday.

EK will be coming into some money soon and intends to buy a toy car. We have planned an evening where *I* drive it out to the rural county he administers and then we two go to this roadhouse I saw once, made out of an old metal cotton gin. I liked the idea so much I wished I could run it myself, but I was also too chicken to go in without a "passport." EK will be my passport, and I may bring MGBF if he ever speaks to me again.

By not speaking to me, I mean that he won't answer text messages, voice mails, or actual calls, but he will kiss me good morning and good night and be enthusiastically gregarious when I run into him.

I had a Scarlett at the Barbecue moment today, sitting outside my classroom with a crowd of beautiful young boys crowded around chatting and cracking jokes. I almost expected one of them to get up and bring me a dessert. One of those boys is this semester's student crush.

I wonder if I could keep guinea hens within the city limits? What would my theoretical chocolate lab do with that?

I Really Need a Boyfriend

2006-09-01T23:27:00.000-04:00

Went out after rehearsal Wednesday night with NBF and Dr. Bitch. Had a most surprisingly nice time, though KM pointed out that my good time probably had something to do with the bottle of Rosemount Shiraz I drank during rehearsal. Excellent point.

As it turned out, HeartThrob's band was playing and he looked even better that usual, what with his green hoodie and grown out Beatles hair. The grin goes a long way too. NBF admitted that he would like to see me happy, and if HearthThrob and I got together, he would get over his disgust at HeartThrob and be happy for us. Then he lent me his arm and held my hand and drove me home.

Oh, and MGBF bought me a torch in my favourite colour "for when your power goes out" and is "having something made" for me out of something he bought in London.

See why I need a boyfriend?

What's Left? Locusts?

2006-08-26T09:07:00.000-04:00

Somebody tried to break into my house the other night. I wasn't there of course, but when I came by the next day, the pane of glass next to the deadbolt in the back door had been punched out (though, since I have double-keyed deadbolts, they still couldn't get in). However, they pried the latch off the shed door (lock is untouched) and cleaned it out. All my lawn and power tools are gone, so are both my bikes, and all sorts of little tools and lots of little stuff. It could have been MUCH MUCH MUCH MUCH worse! We will be considering this, at most, an annoyance.

I have finished my first week of classes. They're going to be good. One student even came up to me after class to say how much she enjoyed Friday's class and shook my hand. Wow. The grading is going to be a bear though--100 of everything all at the same time.

I have to teach this awful library class too. I wish I could get out of that. It's going to be horrible. I don't want even to think about it, much less outline it and make the slides and plan the lecture and, yeah... I just don't want to do it.

Home Early

2006-08-23T23:53:00.000-04:00

I'm home early. Pint night was good though. First time a witty Scotsman has asked me to go home with him in awhile. Bought me a drink too. Though EK bought the three others I had. BB/MGBF kissed me right there across the bar too and asked me on a roadtrip (buying trip) for next week. I would really enjoy that. And he might even let me drive his car. I'd really enjoy that too.

It is way too early in the evening for me to feel this drunk. Sick drunk. Bad drunk. Sour drunk. Bleugh.

Come on Baby Light My... FIRED?

2006-08-13T20:34:00.000-04:00

I got fired on Thursday. Officially, I was "let go" because the funding ran out, but I know that's not true. However, I also know that I didn't do anything terrible enough to have gotten me fired either. I was completely blindsighted by the whole thing. In fact, my boss asked me in the morning if I would meet with the architect of our new space to discuss carpeting and paint sometime next week. In the afternoon, he asked me to leave. Terribly terribly mysterious.

Anyway, good riddance. I hated that job. I liked the paycheck and the benefits, but I hated the job.

So, what to do now? I have 20 some weeks of unemployment insurance payments coming to me, and that will be nice. I'm most inclined not to seek another position until that time is up. After all, I've earned that money and I don't really enjoy having a job anyway. I guess I'll call tomorrow and figure out what those checks are going to look like. Luckily, I also have my requisite 3 months salary sitting in my money market account (I think) and CDs maturing every 3 months for a couple of years, starting in December. I'd be quite content except that I just bought (haven't even made the first payment yet) and am trying to renovate this huge old house. Anyone who has undertaken such a project knows just how you seem to leak money from everywhere once you start working on a house. Renovating makes me feel poorer more quickly than just about anything else.

My horoscope for Thursday, the day of firing said, "You're more sensitive than usual right now, so keep to yourself. Try to write something yourself." I also wrote a friend about wanting to sit in a hammock with a stack of books and a bottle of gin instead of working an icky job. I think there may be something to the answering of wishes.

KM gave herself royal blue highlights last week and it made me so jealous I could have screamed. I have said, since I was a small child, that I would look fantastic with Cookie Monster colored hair. Several years ago I announced to everyone that, if I had to do chemo, I would first give myself the blue hair I'd always wanted and enjoy it until it fell out. I was a little disappointed when I didn't need chemo. So, last week I ordered clip-in hair extensions so I could be as cool as KM in a small way. Course I can't do that. I also can't just order one set of extensions. At the moment, I'm wearing purple ones and they're fabulous. Since I now don't have a respectable job to be respectable for, why not go on and do it for real!? I could take this chance to dress my nose piercing properly. I won't do this, of course. I actually like my nose piercing with just about any sort of style. On the right person it just looks "interesting" even if you can't agree to "pretty", instead of "punk." I miss dressing punk. Doesn't look so cute on a fat girl though.

That's something else I could do with my 20 weeks of half-pay for no work.

But wouldn't it be so incredibly amazing if I could come out of that 20 weeks with an agent, or (dare I say) even a book contract? I don't need to write the whole thing. I need to write a fantastic 3 chapters. I can write a fantastic 3 chapters. It's just a matter of deciding WHICH 3 chapters. I have material for at least 6 books in my head right now.

BB/MGBH ditched me Thursday night, when I really needed him, because he did not make me the priority I thought I should be, and I decided that I wasn't willing to involve myself deeply with him until I was a higher priority. Therefore, we're "just friends" again. This is probably better.

OH! Went to Pint Night on Wednesday and BB/MGBH and EK spent good time telling me about how I absolutely HAD to come later this month because HeartThrob's band is booked. Neither of them thinks he's a good match for me, EK really dislikes him, and here they were encouraging me to go see him. I am intrigued. And I'll definitely be there.

2 Memes

2006-08-09T22:40:00.000-04:00

The Book Meme

One book that changed my life:
I don't care if it's a trendy cliche--"He's Just Not That Into You"

One book I have read more than once:
I read "Moby-Dick" every Passover. Not that I'm even Jewish.

One book I would want on a desert island:
I could amuse myself for YEARS with the OED (the one with the magnifier)

One book that made me laugh:
"A Short History of a Small Place"

One book that made me cry:
"Beloved"

One book I wish had never been written:
None. I just don't read such things.

One book I am currently reading:
"Dirty South" because I have a raging crush on Nick Travers, and possibly his writer, Ace Atkins.

One book I have been meaning to read:
Oh. So. Many. I am working through all of Michael Malone's work gradually.

—————————————————–

The Five Things Meme

Five things in my freezer:
1. Hot Italian sausage (for collards)
2. Lime popsicles (for tequila shots)
3. Phyllo
4. Vegetable stock (made largely from pumpkin, I think)
5. Shredded cheddar--it makes everything better

Five things in my closet:
1. My lilac silk Ralph Lauren suit.
2. My horse race hats
3. My nylon-stringed guitar
4. My taupe silk honest-to-god Chanel scarf that my grandmother gave me
5. Lots of very pretty underthings I never ever seem to wear

Five things in my car:
1. Rehearsal CDs
2. A dozen pecans
3. Two wrought-iron fireplace tool sets
4. A cheap paperback dictionary
5. My golf shoes

Five things in my purse:
1. A paintbrush
2. Emergency anti-vertigo pills
3. My PDA
4. Matches
5. Whatever Michael Malone book I'm reading

Five people I tag:
1. Yeah, I don't really do that.

The Styrofoam Ceiling

2006-08-08T08:52:00.000-04:00

I had a very disorganized and comfortable day yesterday, and I got a lot accomplished. I drove way the heck out to the edge of town to pick up the power cable I accidentally left behind on Thursday, then I drove all the way back to my new house, realized I needed more adhesive, so drove most of the way back to the edge of town to go to a different hardware store. I got fireplace tool sets at a VERY DEEP DISCOUNT. I certainly never would have spent $150 each on them. I would spend $20. Now I'll have a set for each of the three fireplaces I anticipate using (LR, DR, MBR--wish it could be music room too, but that flue is collapsed).

What a good thing that I picked up double-sided foam tape on a lark there in the adhesives section. As it turns out, I should eschew the adhesive and just use the tape.

Most of yesterday, I hung the new ceiling tiles I bought to cover up the disaster that was my MBR ceiling. They are imitation tin tiles (you know, all embossed and a common retrofit to a significant minority of all English pubs? Instead of tin, they're made from recycled styrofoam egg cartons. Tin ceilings are not exactly appropriate for my house, but they are a more acceptable evil than are the cracked, textured, half-repaired nonsense that are my current ceilings. These styrofoam tiles paint up with latex and then stick to the existing ceiling. This has worked pretty well in the MBR, which ceiling was poorly covered up with luan and drywall screws. And? Stained the color of tupelo honey. It reminded me of a ski lodge, if the lodge were more like an ice fishing shack, and if the builders of the lodge shack had been mentally deficient in more than one way. If I hadn't run short of egg carton ceiling tiles, my ceiling would now be a restful shade of lilac. The part that IS restful lilac is lovely. I still don't like tin ceilings in my house, but it's so much better!

I, cheeky lass, emailed the company that supplied the tiles to ask if they wouldn't discount my purchase of 300 more tiles (arranged end-to-end they would reach... 500 feet)and they gave me a small face-saving one. I'm grateful, nevertheless. To re-ceiling 5 rooms, I'll spend what on supplies what it would cost to drywall one. I can deal with fancy ceilings at a cost savings like that.

When I'm not hanging ceilings at my new house, I'm teaching myself to play my piano. I can almost play a dumbed-down version of part of a Rachmaninoff concerto now. I can't play anything that doesn't have the names of the left hand notes written in (otherwise, I have to keep translating them into treble staves so I know where to put my fingers).

The conference was a success, I think. I felt good about it and some people had some wonderful things to say and there were no disasters, but I've been too exhausted and afraid to open my email yet and see if there are lasting repercussions.

BB/MGBF is not taking calls or returning text messages. I am disappointed.

GothGirl told me last night, in the middle of saying something else, that I looked really good, that I had a new sparkle, and asked what it was. We had a longish conversation about my need for a boyfriend and the qualities of a suitable candidate. It was somewhat satisfying. We also ordered super-nachos and lemon icebox pie by delivery and THAT was VERY satisfying.

I really really really want to get into my house. I need to get the plumbers in to do the bathroom/water heater/washer/dryer/kitchen rough-in so I can move in. Really need to do that. Yup. Really do. Hoping EK will come up with a brilliant solution to my bathroom design woes though...

Why I Love My Town

2006-08-02T22:02:00.000-04:00

I moved "home" a year and a half ago, for many reasons. Largely, I'm very glad I'm here, and it's been quite awhile since I really felt this much at home anywhere. Today, I got to show off my town to a friend from elsewhere, and it's the first time I've really done that since I've been back.

This morning, I picked up a friend and former colleague of mine from Washington. He is the keynote speaker in the conference I'm throwing tomorrow. He's brainy and thoughtful and well-read and an accomplished critical thinker, so more challenging and more rewarding than other people who might have visited.

We went to the cool University-area coffee house and chatted. I saw one person I know. Next we drove around a little of downtown Columbia then met my boss for a tour of the SC State House. Our VIP host was a jerk and an idiot. Also? an attorney, of course. I skipped most of the tour to answer phone calls about the conference. Next, we went to Piggie Park which was a successful choice. Then my guest and I toured the Robert Mills House which I enjoyed a lot more than I expected, though I'm so jaded about museum work now. Everything about this tour was so very small town or small, well, just small. Good, though.

I dropped off my guest at his hotel (running into a former student of mine in the lobby) and came home to take off my shoes and check email. Email yielded a major disaster, and that was fun, but GothGirl called too and we had a nice chat.

I picked up my guest and we went to the Pub where I was loudly and eagerly greeted by BB/MGBF. Seeing him makes me happy. I don't feel that way very often and it's a real treat. He embraced me and held on long and deep and strong and I wouldn't at all have minded staying there forever.

Had dinner with my systems colleague and his wife. They are great people. I would like for them to be good friends of mine. They're so very couply though. I'm not so keen on that. Not until I'm part of a couple again anyway. Even then, maybe, though! I am having a good time being single with my single friends who aren't using each other as temporary substitutes for a relationship. I haven't seen that sort of behavior in quite awhile.

I hope tomorrow goes well. Even more, though? I hope it goes comfortably. I want to feel good about it even if it's not everything I wish it would be, since I'm sure that I wish it would be more than other people would imagine possible.

After tomorrow? I'd like to take a short roadtrip with BB/MGBF and be comfortably silent and safe and happy with him. I don't care what we do. I don't care if we do anything. But I would like to be with him.

I would also like to hang my new ceiling, which arrived today, because, after that, I can buy a new mattress and set up my new bed. However, I'd prefer to do that AFTER I spend some time with BB/MGBF.

Lookit My Dead Bat!

2006-08-01T21:07:00.000-04:00

It was stuck to my window screen. Poor bat. Its final flight involved me flicking it with a popsicle stick and it sailing gently downward into an azalea bush. Poor bat.

Reasons I Should Have Skipped -- part 2

2006-07-30T12:22:00.000-04:00

19. I'm trying to force BB to be an ultimately unsatisfying substitute for what I really want/need instead of letting it be the good thing that it could be and I know this and don't stop it. I don't really want that and neither does he. Stop. STOP!
20. My voice (and attitude) are better suited to cabaret work than to church work.

Reasons I Should Have Skipped Church This Morning

2006-07-30T11:56:00.000-04:00

1. I was in a bad mood.
2. I only woke up partially before I went.
3. No breakfast.
4. I had to sight read the anthem.
5. I also skipped last night's (choir) party.
6. I couldn't focus my eyes properly.
7. Everyone else had his or her robes from England and I had to wear spares.
8. Everyone else had his or her folder from England and mine is who-knows-where.
9. Everyone else had his or her hymnal and mine is buried somewhere at BB's.
10. My two least favorite altos.
11. Nausea.
12. Almost August in SC.
13. I was the only one on the second alto part in the anthem, with a low F sharp that I just don't have in me.
14. All manner of prayers of thanksgiving for the safe return and joyful ministry of the choir in England... except for me.
15. I accomplished NOTHING yesterday so my mind is still all cluttered with that tension.
16. Huge public display of affection from BB when he saw me, signaling everyone that he hadn't seen me since they got back. Shows just how unimportant I am to him. He was clearly glad to seem me and proud to show it, but not enough so to have looked me up a week ago. It's so great to be a convenient distraction.
17. I'm not home in bed with someone feeling safe and cared for; I'm at my house, alone, watching a movie that makes me sad, drinking disgusting soda and avoiding the same work I avoided yesterday.
18. Being fussed over by my favorite soprano and wishing that it were BB instead.

My New Kitchen

2006-07-29T10:45:00.000-04:00

My cabinets are ordered. They look like this:

The sink arrives next week (from Greece!). It's a bit small, but so pretty!
Measurements:

Interior Dimension: 22"L by 17-1/2"W By 7" H

Exterior Dimension: 23"L by 18-1/2"W by 7" H

Pictures:

The faucet arrived yesterday. It's enormous. Rather larger than I expected and also larger than any normal faucet. I hope it doesn't look silly.

All that will go into slate tile countertops (I think). I picked up some samples this morning and they're just beautiful--veined in mica and copper with that yummy steely blue background. Examples:

I'm leaning towards 6 inch tiles on the island and 12 inch tiles on the two wall runs. I also intend to get a few copper tiles to mix in on the island. I think. We'll see.

What Dreams Have Come

2006-07-21T18:09:00.000-04:00

I just had the funniest dream! The choir had come back, and came straight from the Airport to the church to sing one of the big cantatas or song cycles. I brought my piano with me and parked it near the table with the crab dip. I waited for them to get out of rehearsal, but only some of them did. I saw JP and the older parishioner members and kept waiting. JG waved and smiled and said an enthusiastic "hello," but BB, following her around as usual, said nothing, and it crushed me. Still I waited, and still the rest didn't come.

I'd had enough. I couldn't figure out how to get the piano back in my car (I'd driven up the steps to unload it in the room the first time, but it was now too crowded to drive my car in the room. I just hoped for the best and left. As I was walking along the side of the cathedral, someone came quickly and noisily down some sort of open outside staircase. When he was still at least a whole floor above me, he pleasantly said, "Hey there, Figly, great to see you!" then ran on down and by me. I saw a flash of pasty white skin, covered surprisingly thickly in dark manly hair underneath his flapping brown bathrobe (just the color of my new walls). I expected it to be The Conductor, who is nothing but unpleasant to me so his words made me stop and turn around to look. It wasn't The Conductor. It was HeartThrob. Who isn't supposed to know my name, much less take the time to greet me pleasantly.

He ran back the way I'd come, but stopped at doors different from the ones where the party was and flapped his arms and talked gibberish. A smallish Asian man greeted him and tried to suppress his ravings. I turned away.

A little further down the side of the cathedral (btw, this wasn't our regular cathedral), I was under a bridge with my dog (I don't have a dog) and there were a bunch of skateboard punks I knew a little. They asked whether I'd ever been to Israel and if I hadn't grown up in England. I didn't find out where they were going with this because my dog wouldn't sit and one of their dogs (chocolate brown, mine was black) wouldn't stop harassing his butt. I couldn't talk to them unless my dog was settled, and he wasn't, so I didn't find out anything more.

Don't criticize me for napping. I needed it. I finalized my cabinet order this morning. The counters are going to be lovely. I found cheap slate tile. Which might also look good on the fireplaces!

What does this dream mean?!

Just Another Thursday

2006-07-20T14:28:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I let my iPod read me "The Life of Pi," for 9 hours while I painted trim in my living and dining rooms. The trim was charcoal grey and navy blue, respectively, so, by "painted," I mean "primed." One more coat of primer and one coat of glossy white should do it (I really hope). It was a relaxing (not restful) and productive day.

I also painters' taped the outline of my new kitchen cabinets and island on the floor so I could practice walking around in there without crashing into things and knocking imaginary blenders and fruit baskets and coconut cakes to the floor. I think it's going to work. I'm meeting with the first kitchen designer again tomorrow morning to redraw the plan and (probably) order the cabinets. Hurray! The second kitchen designer's estimate was, ready?, FOUR TIMES the price of the first. Guess who's getting my meager business?

Last night, I had a nightmare. Or, more precisely, I had a "night terror," though this distinction is terribly misunderstood. I do not have many scary/unhappy dreams. I taught myself to be a lucid dreamer when I was in high school, and one of the benefits is that I take control and responsibility for my dreams and do not ordinarily allow bad ones. One of the disadvantages is that there is one fewer place in my life where I just "let go" and see what happens. So, for whatever reason, I had a bad dream last night. It involved cabinets (stop laughing), my mother, the ghost who lives at the top of the servant's staircase in my new house, and me waking myself up by screaming and finding my pillow completely soaked from somnolent sobbing. I was much too frightened to go back to sleep. I went into the living room and read some Harry Potter, but I didn't feel much better, so at 3:45 in the morning, I got in my car, drove over to MGBF's house and slept in his bed. I was afraid to be alone.

That didn't exactly start my day off well, waking up alone in somebody else's house after not enough and very troubled sleep. The morning continued, unpropitiously, with a tiny pink worm (NOT a stem!) on the blueberries I'd put on my Cheerios and already half eaten and then with me spilling balsamic vinaigrette all over everything in my briefcase (including my computer--right in the speaker port) and spending my first half hour in the office mopping it all up. Also? I'm wearing the ugliest outfit! I don't know what I was thinking. What a day.

I did, however, finish my judging gig for B4B (Blogging For Books) today, and it was a real pleasure. It is such a blessing that there are so many thoughtful people in the world who are so good at playing with words. Reading these entries is like going to a potluck picnic where, I may not ask for all the recipes, but I love gazing on the long table filled with different dishes. Some people bring family recipes, some make something suggested by Gourmet or Redbook, and some people stop by the deli and get a pound of macaroni salad. At least one person will enjoy every dish on the table, and I love seeing it all laid out in a crowd. I'm so happy to have been invited. Thanks to everyone who wrote something, thanks to Kim for reducing my choices to 7, and thanks to Joss for hosting.

One more "office day" is nearly over, and I have yet to commit my workshop outline to Powerpoint. Way to procrastinate. I did, however, wrangle the letterhead, business card, and Web template out of our graphic designer. He's wonderful, the logos are powerful, and the products are beautiful. The benefits will be large. I also got my secretary started on catering estimates for the conference and purchasing nametag holders, so it has not been a wasted day at all. However, I have to leave for the retreat on Sunday and I have not prepared anything for my presentation there. I really don't want to go.

All Those Stupid Questionnaires in One Post

2006-07-18T14:58:00.000-04:00

1. Have you ever been searched by the cops?
And various uniformed military. In several countries.

2. What color are your eyes?
Green.

3. When was the last time you went sledding?
A couple of years ago, with Suzanne and Bernadette, before lunch at The Cozy.

4. Would you rather sleep with someone else, or alone?
With someone else, unless I'm sick or angry.

5. Do you believe in ghosts?
Sure.

6. Do you consider yourself creative?
I suppose.

7. Jennifer Aniston or Angelina Jolie?
All Angie, all the time.

8. Who was your first crush?
Tony. 4-year-old Kindegarten

9. Do you have a secret that no one knows but you?
More than one.

10. Have you ever been ice skating?
I was on my college team.

11. How often do you remember your dreams?
Sleeping ones? Often. Unfortunately, I'm a lucid dreamer so I often create them in addition to remembering them.

12. When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried?
Thursday night before everybody left.

13. Can you name 4 songs by The Beatles?
Yes, and sing their harmonies.

14. What's the one thing always on your mind?
My unresolved romantic urges.

15. What talent do you wish you had?
Self-esteem.

16. Do you know anyone in jail?
Yes.

17. Have you ever stood up for someone you hardly knew?
Often enough to have a couple of scars.

18. Have you ever been punched in the face?
No, but I've been slapped and kicked in the face.

19. Do you own any stuffed animals?
Billy, my bullfrog.

20. Do you have a major crush on someone?
Of course. I've written about him below.

21. Do you miss someone right now?
I am terminally nostalgic and lonely.

22. What are you listening to right now?
The Kojo Nnambi show.

23. Has the death of a celebrity ever made you cry?
River Phoenix.

24. What color underwear/boxers are you wearing?
None.

25. Where do you work?
The library, the church, the Airport campus, and my home office

26. What ended your last relationship?
Debilitating mental illness.

27. What food do you crave right now?
Chevre on ginger nuts.

28. What was the last TV show you watched?
Daily Show.

29. What is the last thing you ate?
Raspberry NutriGrain Breakfast Bar.

30. Are you on any medication?
Lots.

31. What side of the bed do you sleep on?
Whatever side is farthest from the door.

32. What color shirt are you wearing?
Tomato.

33. What is your favorite frozen treat?
Kroger brand holiday special Peppermint Ice Cream

34. How many tattoos/piercing do you have?
3.

35. Can you imagine yourself ever getting married?
I imagine myself STILL married.

36. Have you ever done something to instigate trouble?
Yes, and it's childish and I should stop.

37. Do you like your nose?
Yes, but is it possible that it is changing shape?!

38. What color is your bedroom?
Lilac and chocolate.

39. Where do you live?
Columbia, SC

40. Are you an aggressive driver?
Yes, but a very good one.

41. What color is your car?
One green, one blue.

42. What do you smell like right now?
Rosemary and sage.

43. What is your favorite color?
Purple.

44. What character from a movie/TV most reminds you of yourself?
Aspirationally? Anything Mary-Louise Parker plays. Realistically? They don't put people like me on TV.

45. Do you enjoy giving hugs?
Not quite as much as I like getting them.

46. Do you own a digital camera?
A few and they're all either misplaced or missing parts.

47. What books, if any, have made you cry?
I'm a recovering English major. My answer to this is far too long to interest anyone.

48. Are you a jealous person?
Very.

49. 69?
Yes, but I have major reservations about its efficacy.

50. What shoes are you wearing right now?
Black leather strappy sandals.

51. What is your major weakness?
Charismatic men who call me "Sugar."

52. Do you suffer motion sickness?
Often, even while sitting in a club chair on the ground floor of a building on a permanent foundation.

53. What's the best pizza?
Goat cheese, pancetta, basil, cantaloupe, and black pepper.

54. Longest relationship?
4.2 years.

55. Are you afraid of thunderstorms?
Take me to the beach during a thunderstorm on a full moon and I will do absolutely anything you want or can dream of. And I howl.

56. What do you want to be when you grow up?
Happy.

Or dead.

57. Have you ever given or been given an engagement ring?
Twice.

58. What was the last gift someone gave you?
A manila envelope stuffed with original refrigerator art by my nephew.

59. Who would you call first if you won the lottery?
My attorney, of course.

60. Can you cook?
Better than everyone I know except Drew.

61. What is your favorite jelly/jam?
Black currant.

62. Can you swim?
1990 European Youth Champion in 100m backstroke.

63. What is your first memory?
Trying to convince Tony P. that I was strong enough and smart enough to lift up my parents' (brick) house with one finger.

No, I think that it is sitting on my hospital bed with one of the nurses and turning Tootsie Pops into little ghosts with tissues, a black marker, and a roll of suturing thread so that I would have something to distribute when the other kids on the ward came by to Trick or Treat.

64. What item would you like to have buried with you?
I don't want to be buried (I'd really prefer to evaporate or desiccate very very quickly), but I'd like to be surrounded by my years of correspondence with Elizabeth. Unfortunately, she's named as my literary executor in my will, so her job will be more difficult than she may have anticipated.

65. What are three things you're dying to have right now that would make everything just about perfect?
The ever elusive book contract, a size 8 figure, and the right man.

Everybody Loves Me

2006-07-18T11:24:00.000-04:00

Between Friday afternoon and Sunday afternoon, FIVE people told me they loved me. Five people who each rendered me speechless when they did it. Five people who have either not done it before, haven't done it often/long enough for me to be used to it, or who are under no obligation to do so in order to protect potential future claims for organ transplants. I am not accustomed to being loved.

But since I'm on a roll, here are some people who *I* love but upon whom I do not rely for future organ match:
Will
MGBF/BB
The Threesome Twosome
Goth Girl
HeartThrob
Elizabeth (even if she won't talk to me) (for almost a year)
High School Sweetheart
Greg (potentially)
my colleague's sculptor professor friend
my colleague
Jen
Gwen
Steve
Maureen
Daniel (there is also the potential to be IN LOVE with him)
Jennifer
Janis
Janice et al
Little Ed (though he's also an organ transplant type)
Uncle
Susan (no, the other one)
Edward

I may be falling in love with a little with SW. As a matter of fact, today he is meeting up with a former non-gay boyfriend of mine from high school. William may be the most suitable beau I've ever had, and I still adore him, and I think he's probably even better suited to me now than he was then. MGBF is particularly keen to hang with Will so that he can hear stories about old me. This makes me both impossibly nervous and thoroughly charmed
at the same time. I HATE giving up the control over the stories, but I also hate missing them--I can hardly imagine what stories Will has! However, this is also the first time (I think, can that be?!) I've been involved with someone who was so sweetly curious to understand who I used to be that he would seek out my old friends on his own. I don't know what to do!

I absolutely cannot fall in love with MGBF. This might should teach me something about why I always end up with self-involved straight men for whom solicitousness never reaches beyond perfunctory. Maybe I shouldn't be so worried--I get hurt either way.

Yesterday, I cleaned my apartment, painted the living room and dining room of my new house (first coat only), and talked to England on the phone for three hours then sobbed in my car for half an hour and drove home. I cheered myself up by drinking a bottle of wine, washing and setting my hair, and reading Harry Potter then sleeping on clean sheets. It only worked a little. Today, my horrible boss keeps mentioning how sorry he is that I didn't get to go on the trip, but how useful it is that I'm still here. How could he possibly think this would do anything but make me feel wretched?

Pleasing Manifestations of Solicitousness:
Asking what I like/think/want
Ringing me up to say "good night"
Offering his arm only when I need it (physically and/or emotionally)
Casually touching me when he refers to me in a group conversation
Putting my things in places where they cannot be broken
Describing me favorably to strangers
Following me home when I'm driving while tired/sick/sad
Taking responsibility for my chores
Thinking up ways to make my life easier/better
Remembering little tiny ephemeral comments or incidents and recounting them significantly
Refraining from discussing subjects that upset me when I don't need to address them
Seeking out my analysis/expertise for his own concerns
Making me feel safe
Complimenting me
Noticing details about me
Requesting my time and company
Celebrating our relationship
Looking out for and reminding me of my safety and happiness

Home Alone

2006-07-15T11:35:00.000-04:00

So, I'm not in G. I'm home alone while all my daily friends are de-jet-lagging over pints as I type this. I was still hopeful yesterday that I would be able to hop on the bus at the last minute, but I wasn't allowed. Instead, I went to a kitchen design appointment and to 3 decorator warehouses and to the liquor store (Pimms! I found Pimms!) and to the grocery store. Then I came home and boiled/cleaned my pipe, filled it and emptied it to astonishing effect, and watched most of season 1 of Weeds on DVD. As you may remember, I LOVE Mary-Louise Parker, and this program does not disappoint.

In a couple of hours, I'm going to show off my new house to a crowd of friends/neighbors. Gotta get over there soon to clean up for that. At the moment, there is all kinds of evidence of my relationship with my painter. Things should be boxed and closed and tidied.

WHAT if HeartThrob is at tonight's party?! Wouldn't that be something? Night before last, BB told me about a recent coversation with my HeartThrob, who is thrilled that BB will be managing the bar where I hang and where HeartThrob's band plays. HeartThrob suggested that they learn "Afternoon Delight" to perform with the band. He'll sing tenor, BB will (obviously) sing Bass, FrizBlob will sing soprano (ick), and they just have to find an alto. BB (obviously) knows what part I sing, since we work together, singing, so I'm sure he was up to something with mentioning their alto need. I, cool, coy, asked, "where're you gonna find someone willing?" Instead of replying, "well, if you ever want to displace FrizBlob, you might want to take me up on my helpful arrangments," he said, "we're all choir dorks, I'm sure we can find one somewhere." Of course, I've already iTuned a new recording so I'll be prepared.

I'd love to make out with some fine man tonight in Charleston.

T Minus 26 Hours

2006-07-13T12:45:00.000-04:00

I'm pretty sure I'm not going to G with the rest of my ensemble. This makes me very sad. I have prepared shopping lists for a few of them, and attached US cash, so, if they think of me at all while they're there, they will know just what it is that might alleviate my homesickness. Fruit Pastilles and Yorkshire pudding mix will help. A little.

I might go get my passport out of the deposit box tomorrow morning just in case though.

I have not allowed myself even to pull out my suitcase, much less to pack it, "just in case."

I AM looking forward to a great party though, which is a nice consolation prize of sorts, though the two events are completely unrelated. I should get another set of friends anyway. For spares. Or for enhancement, really.

EG and C are taking me with them to the beach for a week in September. I think I actually wished for this exactly, and I'm a little creeped out that it's happening. I'd really love it if I had a boyfriend to take with me though. I don't care that this means that I have to cancel a week of class. I probably won't. I'll cancel Wednesday or Friday and drive back into town for the other day. That's a fair compromise. I told them I would cook and entertain and bring greens. They are thrilled. I am thrilled.

I'm having lunch with AW and MH.

43 Things That I'm Thinking About

2006-07-11T09:32:00.000-04:00

1. Violet cannot possibly be anyone's natural eye color.
2. My brand new grill came without the knobby thing to turn on the extra burner.
3. Power painters simply do not work.
4. It is entirely possible that I could fall in love with a man who does nothing other than to leave me a voicemail that says, "I'm taking your power painter to the hardware store tomorrow to see what they suggest. I'm also going to pick up some more tape and drop off the overdue library books I found in the dining room. Call me when you get home to say good night."
5. Do I not notice any more when STRAIGHT men are nice to me? Or are they just not nice to me? If so, why?
6. Zits that hide in hair are cagey little devils.
7. Johnny Depp is WONDERFUL. He's awfully good as a (Disney) pirate, even though I prefer him as a Celtic pirate (Chocolat).
8. 45 minutes of Johnny Depp being a pirate would be better than 2 hours of Johnny Depp and a whole lot of other people I don't care about running around in some silly plot (though the costuming was quite nice).
9. 44 oz. of Diet Cherry Coke is NOT EQUIVALENT to 8 hours of sleep.
10. 31 is probably too old to go to work after just 3 hours of sleep.
11. 31 is NOT too old to stay up all night smoking, playing 20 Questions, lying around on a stranger's bed, and googling real people we know.
12. Apparently, $84,000 is not a lot of money after all.
13. A 3% raise is practically invisible and doesn't even buy one nice dishwasher.
14. A part-time salary that is HALF my previous full-time salary becomes really uncomfortable once I've spent the $84,000 that was in my bank account(s).
15. I need another $84,000.
16. No, I WANT another $84,000.
17. If I don't go to England on Friday, I could go to that party Saturday night and find myself a handsome and smart and talented straight man over whom to swoon.
18. I'm still swooning over the handsome and smart and talented and immature and addicted and sloppy and already taken (though not formally) man I already know about.
19. I have lost my talent of picking paint colors. My taupe turned out to be caramel and my misty lavender turned out to be very Dr. Seussical. God only knows what the green for the kitchen is going to look like!
20. People are actually registering for my conference. Now I actually have to go through with planning and staging it. Darnit.
21. Swearing at church, even if it's in the choir room and even if it's Anglican, is still frowned upon. Whoops.
22. 44 oz. of Diet Cherry Coke DOES equal having to go to the bathroom often.
23. I really do enjoy days when I attend four entirely separate social events, all of which are planned fewer than 60 minutes before they occur.
24. I can really sing!
25. But I should memorize the words to more songs.
26. People like me! They really like me!
27. I am desperately in need of a good snog.
28. If I don't go to England on Friday, I can see all three of my aunts, one of my uncles (the only one who counts), my brother, my sister-in-law, and my nephew on Sunday.
29. If I don't go to England on Friday, I don't have to work on Sunday.
30. My new house is HUGE. I hope I can arrange for it to be consistently filled with people both well known and new.
31. Nobody can make a living adjunct teaching in SC technical colleges.
32. One semester's adjunct salary will buy a refrigerator and the reupholstering of one chair.
33. I love having a man's energy in my house. I'd forgotten.
34. I should smile more.
35. I am not that special. Lots of people have travelled the world, know when to use sesame oil, play multiple instruments, speak multiple languages, can navigate LC call numbers, know how to set a proper table, recreate with prescription drugs, renovate their kitchens, read good books, and have $84,000.
36. I'm probably overdoing my purple thing.
37. Most people are really bad gift-givers.
38. I really love to drive and I'm really good at it.
39. I miss driving a manual transmission.
40. I've been practicing being vulnerable, but I'm still not very good at it and I don't really know how to practice it more.
41. Spectacles DO make their wearers appear more thoughtful when they are worn less often than constantly.
42. I should finish that story about W and Miss Anne and give it to MS before she moves all the way across the country.
43. EH could probably be a pretty good friend if she doesn't move and I make the effort.

It's All Downhill from There

2006-06-28T19:09:00.000-04:00

I sang for an ordination on Saturday. It wasn't particularly stimulating, but I do enjoy ensemble singing, see? And I really love to sing psalms. So Saturday morning was good. Then I accidentally had lunch with the out-of-town best friend of my HeartThrob. He's fun and amusing and successful and driven and had a lot to say about HeartThrob's recent proclivity for knee-walkin' drunkenness. Now, I enjoy a good time and have been known to, say, barf in the bushes at church after a particularly hard-drinking night, but, after a certain age (about 27), sloppy drunk is no longer anything but sad. To be falling-down drunk at 34 is to court group expressions of combined pity and disgust. I acknowledge that such a state is, to an extent, a recognized mark of creative angsty genius, but it is not the only such mark, and if that sort of professional characterization is what's at stake here, I'd prefer he chose something else.I'll tolerate other drug use and I'm willing to consider dealing with other drug abuse, but I don't see living with a slurring, vomiting, stinking, stumbling drunk in my future.

Saturday evening, GothGirl and I abused some substances ourselves, though not enough even to disable me from driving home responsibly. We fully proved, though, that I do make excellent margaritas, particularly when we have access to that marvelous little ice from Sonic. Henceforth, I think I might just run by Sonic for ice any time I'm making margaritas. We had a most excellent time, laughed ourselves stupid, and played childhood card games. It was a great evening.

Things have headed downhill pretty much since. I can't shake this sour mood.

In an hour or so, I'm meeting GothGirl (and likely some others, which would be nice since I've lost my momentum with that group) for dollar pint night and to hear HeartThrob's band play. It COULD be tons of fun, but I'm tired and mopey and quiet. It would be so nice for tonight to go well, including having an actual conversation with HeartThrob, but to think thus is only to set me up for massive, sobbing, disappointment (again).

The GC I wanted came back with a very reasonable bid, and I thought he was fantastic, except that this morning, when he gave me the bid, he said that he'd taken another big job and wouldn't be available until November. That's a long time to own an empty house.

I'm wearing my cowboy boots tonight, for the first time since I broke my foot.

Old House Day 1

2006-06-25T21:03:00.000-04:00

1. Purchased cleaning supplies, basic tools, power sander
2. Removed doors: two from LR/DR arch, one from hall/DR and two from top of DR china cabinet built-in
3. Spackled china cabinet built-in and two doorways where doors were removed
4. Removed wall nails in whole house
5. Scrubbed half of music room floor with turpentine (testing efficacy)
6. Vacuumed downstairs windows (YUCK! 12 windows = 3 full vacuum canisters!)
7. Removed light fixture, hanging baskets, coat rack from kitchen
8. Showed RET around
9. Met plumber: $14,000 for both baths and washer/dryer hookups
10. Replaced back door deadbolt (mostly RET, but I helped)

My thighs still hurt from the gym on Friday but today has made my feet, ankles, knees, and hips ache like nobody's business.

Tomorrow I'll try again with the GC at 11, and then maybe Mom and I can go buy fabric for curtains, which she volunteered to make.

I am SO TIRED.

Whachu Talkin' 'bout?

2006-06-25T02:02:00.000-04:00

SW, CD and I
[send]

Yes? You and CD what?
[send]

What are you talking about? Aren't you at work?
[send]

You said, "CD and I" but no more.
[send]

Oh yeah. We were saying that we love you but it was too long to write. But we do. Love you (SW) from CD and JB. We love you. Yes we do. And we also love
[send]

cereal.
[send]

Awwww, I love y'all too!
[send]

Good Things

2006-06-21T12:23:00.000-04:00

Good Things I Have Done Today:

(for my house)
* Called floor, plumbing, concrete, and general contractors for estimates

(for my mind)
* Read half of Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight
* Called and emailed for help with my grad school (part 2) application

(for my body)
* Ordered the large fruit salad to fill up on (with lots of vitamins) BEFORE I eat the (glorious, heavenly, best I've ever had) chicken salad sandwich
* Called a friend to go lift weights after Evensong
* Tried on a new blouse I bought and determined that it's WAY too provocative to wear to work

(for my soul)
* invited a friend to eat pizza on the floor of my new house after closing tomorrow
* called my nephew to sing him "Happy Birthday." Today, he is two.

KISS ME!

2006-06-20T22:09:00.000-04:00

I had one of those days that, at the end, I just really needed somebody to kiss me--long, hard, and meaninglessly. I also needed somebody to throw his arm around me, sit next to me on the couch, prop his feet up next to mine on the coffee table, hand me a frosty bottle of beer, and babble comfortingly for an hour while I decompress.

Instead? I got a hand squeeze and a quick peck from my BB (with the VERY red eyes!) after a very frustrating rehearsal. And even that was more than I can really expect, so that's nice. Not what I needed, but nice.

Where are you, sympathetic, cuddly, beer man?!

My new palm has WiFi and, though I'm sure plenty of other people have these and like them, I can't shake the feeling that the wee appliance in my hand has been sprinkled with fairy dust and that I am a character in the second verse of a children's song. It is a REMARKABLE invention and I ADORE it. I get really good reception on one of the networks I've been pirating from the edge of my bathtub, and I'm pretty sure that the Palm hasn't enough juice to electrocute me there, unlike the laptops. I don't worry so much, see?

Remember that fantastic old Meryl Streep (fantastic!) movie, "Death Becomes Her"? She's immortal, but dead or something and has to keep getting spray painted by her embalmer husband? WELL, if this appeals to you, and you're afraid of the sun (like I am), I heartily recommend the Banana Boat spray self-tanner with bronzer. It's fun! and effective. Last summer I was promoting the Neutrogena spray formula, and it's good, but the one with the bronzer let's you see where you're applying the color and whether it's even or not. It's a little sticky but not at all worse than any of the creams.

Are you aware that the 44oz. Fresh Lime Slush from Sonic has SIX HUNDRED AND SIXTY-SEVEN calories?!

Did you see the piece on Today this morning where all those people had their stomachs removed?

Oh, and the Prairie Home Companion movie is FANTASTIC!

Tarheel Country

2006-06-15T14:58:00.000-04:00

I have come up here to Durham, NC, ostensibly to attend part of the annual North American/European conference in my unfortunate career field in Chapel Hill. Really, though, this trip is a convenient way to get my state government to pay for me to visit my delightful brother, sister-in-law, and nephew in Durham. I am currently sitting on their red suede sofa in their little living room in their little cottage. I am waiting for them to come home from work and school so we can go to a baseball game. I am also hoping to fall asleep briefly, since I know the heat at the stadium and the sticky on the nephew will only make me even grumpier after my night of insomnia, morning of parking horrors, and day of grueling seminar. Yuck.

Construction continues on the replacement foundation of what may or may not be my new old house. I have not yet been informed of any catastrophes (is it practical or pessimistic or paranoid that I have been imagining chimneys collapsing through three floors or ceilings cracking in half or front porches just plain falling off the building?). Thus, I am assuming that things will go according to plan and that I will own a new old house at this time next week. I really have to get the estimate on that water heater replacement... Darnit. I stopped in a Big Orange Suburban Home Improvement store (BOSHI) this afternoon and loaded up on fresh paint chips. I surely do love me some paint. I like to smell it, like to stir it, like to paint with it, like to gaze admiringly at it, and like to choose it (by way of paint chips). The BOSHI also reassured me that there are passably attractive porch lighting fixtures and semi-suitable ceiling fans to be had at far less than some of the prices I am finding online. Since the goal is to spend as little as possible on things that won't bother me daily during renovation, I CAN buy the $80 porch light instead of the $300 one. To do so will permit me to order the swiss army cabinets with useful things that roll out, the really nice washer and dryer, and the fancy custom built-in bookshelves and windowseats. And stained glass. And reproduction fireplace tiles. You know, the important stuff. Not porch lights.

I am beaming and honored to be named a finalist in this month's Blogging for Books contest, hosted by the tremendous Joshilyn Jackson. The fine pre-judge this month is Angel and the celebrity judge is Shanna Swendson, author of some excellent work in one of my favorite not-really-a-genres, contemporary fairy-tales. As usual, I've read the REVIEWS of Shanna's books, but still haven't quite gotten around to reading the books themselves. This unfortunate side-effect of my time in graduate English departments is what I'm thinking of when I start to tell my students that they really don't have to read the books in order to write great papers, but then I stop myself from saying that with a well-placed coughing fit and tell them, instead, just to do the assignment and stop bloody whining about it. Anyhow, if I am blessed enough to win this contest, I promise I WILL read Shanna's books, then think about how I can work them into a syllabus. If YOU, fair reader, are interested in competing in the Blogging for Books contest, check Joss' blog for next month's prompt. However, I warn you that to check her blog may mire you into the swampy muck of smiles, giggles, guffaws, deep thoughts, and head-nodding that may cause you to read parts aloud to your colleagues and family pets and henceforth have even one more thing you have to do every single day of your life. As for me, I'm happy to have that as a daily part of my life, and so would my dog, if I had one.

On Tuesday night, I attended my first meeting of what may become a writing group to call my own. Well, not exactly "my own" since they've all been together for many years and they're mostly a generation older than me, and they already have a name, etc., but one that I might could be a part of anyway.
My fellow chorister, CD invited me and that put a big smile on my face to start with. Then, after the meeting, everyone (I think all of them) invited me to attend the next session, which I take as a pretty good sign. Yay! The collective mentorship in that group could be a very handy thing for me. I do so long to leave behind my boxes of business cards with the titles, "director" and "advisor" and "consultant". And while I harbor only fantasies, but no plans to pay bills and get health insurance as a writer, having a crit group is a step in that direction. Next time, I will take something to read.

And while we're on the subject of fantasies without plans, mine still involve trunks of ballgowns hauled around Europe as I travel with my internationally successful husband/lover/boyfriend the maestro and write brainy, poetic novels in outdoor cafes while he rehearses and ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT EVER have affairs with divas.

Yeah!

Alternatively, we can live in the Delta while he heads some high school music program and I become a wildly successful, though still critically acclaimed, Great Southern Writer, and we can spend most of our time in a great jook joint or roadhouse or dive bar. I'd miss the ballgowns a little though.

This Magic Moment

2006-06-06T15:56:00.000-04:00

I am one of those people whose phone always rings when she thinks about someone (not just friends or family--also doctor's offices or brokers or long-lost colleagues) and around whom streetlights flicker constantly. I'm sure you know someone else like this. More than once I've heard someone say (at a party or a meeting or such) when I arrive, "Oh good! Courtney's here. Now something will happen." I wish I could accept that compliment, but I don't really do anything--stuff just seems to happen around me. None of it is particularly good or bad or comforting or scary, but it certainly can be strange. I could call it "God" or "the universe" or "karma" or "coincidence" or "faith" or "ghosts", but, for now, let's call it "magic". When my dinner date says, "I hope they have that sacher-torte for the dessert special again," they do. When the kid on my camping trip says, "I hope we see a donkey on this hike," we will. When my drinking buddy says, "I hope Scott drops by tonight," he appears.

I had a very magical experience one Christmas, several years ago. Of course, Christmas is magical for lots of people in different ways--children discovering the new bicycle Santa brought them, parents admiring their new grandchildren at the dining room table for the first time, acolytes lighting the final Advent wreath candle--but there was a time in my life when I had no Christmas magic of my own. I was too old to care about presents, too young to have children, and not much interested in the liturgy. I had also traveled to my parents' house, in my hometown, for the holiday, minus my boyfriend who had refused to meet my family and then gone to Grand Cayman without me after our huge fight.

So I was magic-free that Christmas but had agreed to help my mother with altar flowers at our church (site of christenings, weddings, and funerals for many generations of our family). Mother's supplier had fouled up her order and had half as many flowers as she'd wanted, and half of those were wrong, so we had been scrambling to find what we needed. For HOURS that morning we went to florists and supermarkets and neighbors' houses and even a farm to gather odds and ends of flowers. We had made two large arrangements of the scavenged supplies and they were okay, though not up to Mother's exacting creative standards. We needed more greenery so headed out again to seek trimmings at Christmas tree lots. We found none. The lots were closed down, and empty or chain-link fenced so all we got was a paltry branch or two. With only two hours until the first Christmas Eve service and a Parish House already filling with eager eight-year old shepherds and angels, we decided to go home and prune my parents' own Christmas tree, right there in the living room, and use that to finish the altar.

I was driving a little too fast, really, since there was no traffic and we were panicking about completing the arrangements. I was racing through an amber traffic light at the crest of a hill when I saw something big lying across the road just ahead of us. I slammed on the brakes, banging our heads and locking our belts, and stopped just inches from what I was sure had to be a sad holiday drunk, passed out in the road. We stopped screaming, got out of the car, and rushed forward to find... a Christmas tree. A sad, broken, Charlie Brown of a Christmas tree, but one with enough green branches to fill our empty vases. A Christmas tree that, like me, had no Christmas purpose but that had been magically delivered nearly on top of probably the only two people in town who had any need of it. It could only be MAGIC that would take an ugly, unwanted tree and give it to an ugly, unwanted girl, who would give it to a beautiful, fancy church that would give her back some real faith in magic.

Game on!

2006-06-02T19:41:00.000-04:00

My new old house is back on, sort of. Very upsetting news from the inspection, but the owner is going to fix those things (about $25,000 of stuff). If all goes well, I'll have a brand new foundation, ducts, water heater, and some windows. Nice. However, all my giddiness for the house is gone. Nevertheless, there's planning to be done.

Downstairs bathroom:

How gorgeous is this sink?! It is $849 at http://www.sinksfaucetsandmore.com/. I'm going to move the toilet into the walkable part of the room (ridiculously sloping ceiling dives to about 4' where the toilet is now. This give me the chance to indulge in a fixture I'm most enamored of--the Kohler Hatbox Toilet ($1825 at Employee Wholesale Direct). I read about this toilet in some design magazine about a year ago and fell in love. My favorite thing about it is the concealed trap shape. I HATE dusting those ridiculous ridges at the bottom of toilets. Does anyone really care to see the outline of those pipes? I don't even want to know they're there. As far as I'm concerned, I don't need to know anything beyond seat and flusher. I would love to have the sort of bathroom where I could install this gem amidst lots of open space and tiny tile, but that's not going to happen soon. Instead, I'm going to claim that it's the only toilet that will fit in my new, weird bathroom. If I can swing it, I'd like to sink a whirlpool tub through the floor in that low-ceilinged part of the weirdness, under the window. It's not the top priority though. An outdoor hottub would probably be cheaper, though it wouldn't give me a full second bathroom.

Upstairs bathroom:

Of course it's another quirky, difficult, and small room. It's 9' long and 5' wide, which isn't the problem. The problem is that one short wall is filled with a floor to ceiling window and the other short wall is filled with the door. 5' is not comfortably wide enough for a tub or shower and walking area, especially since I don't want to detract from the existing window. As is, the clawfoot bathtub is on the right side long wall and the sink is wall hung just across from it (very squishy to get through). The toilet is at the window end on the bathtub wall. Possibly, I could leave the toilet location as is (replacing all fixtures, obviously) and move the sink farther down its wall, across from the toilet, and install a big frameless glass shower where the tub is. That's the quickest and safest solution. The more satisfying solution, however, would be to move the toilet up to the left inside the door where there is now a large cavity of a linen closet, leave the sink where it is, and enclose the far end of the room as a double shower. The HUGE problem with this is that there's a window in the middle of that wall. I don't give a flip about privacy, but introducing a whole lot of water around a 100 year old wood framed window is a very bad idea. I think it could be managed with some elegant waterproof curtains for the window (to be drawn closed during shower use) and a powerful vent fan or two. This solution would make the room feel a LOT larger and wider and less corridor-like, which would be really wonderful, since it's the only bathroom. I far prefer this layout, but that's a lot of moving around of plumbing.

It's not so easy to justify another hatbox toilet for upstairs, although I'd like it, of course! I want a pretty traditional looking room, really. I can see a dark wood sideboard with double vessel sinks such as these from Elizabethan Classics ($138 at faucetline.com). Alternatively, this model (Hilo) from Swanstone is made of solid surfacing material which would feel warmer in the room. There will need to be some tile in this bathroom, in the shower, wherever it goes. I think I'm going to go with white-to-charcoal mosaic to go with the white fixtures. Don't want a white shower base though. That should be dark.

Restoration Hardware

2006-05-27T16:44:00.000-04:00

I'll all about shopping for ceiling rosettes, picture rail hanger-thingies, period switchplates, and duct registers. I'm trying to figure out how to paint (one color above the picture rail, another color under, and then trim--should it contrast or monochrome?, each room a different color? each room the same color but with an accent specific to the room? If so, then where? and what color? Many, many questions).

I don't know where to hang curtain rods in these rooms. The picture moulding is at just the same level as the top of the window moulding and I don't especially want to introduce yet another horizontal line into the rooms (already there is baseboard, firebox, fireplace surround, mantel, super-mantel, door casing, plus picture moulding--it's a lot). The windows are topped with significant pediments, and I suspect I should place simple brackets at the outer edge of these, which would put the rod itself just below the picture rail, then the rod could extend out past the window casing an appropriate distance. With a little top ruffling or something, that would make the curtain tops meet the picture moulding spot on. Yeah, that's probably what I should do.

Anyhow, in searching out one answer or another, I came across this choice bit of advice that I just can't resist preserving here. "The armrests of a chair quickly get mucky so clean them up by rubbing with a loaf of bread." I guess the loaf isn't sliced, but is bread crust really capable of demucking armrests? Should the bread be stale or fresh? Does the fiber content matter?

I've found a LOVELY square grand piano here locally and really want it for my new house, though this is surely not the smartest way to spend $2200. It's only $2200 though! How much does it cost to move a piano? That house requires a piano, plus it figures large in my vision of a house full of charming, musical, fun-having guests. I think the finish on this piano isn't quite right though. That can be my reason not to get it. I really want it though!

I have a LOT of wood furniture to refinish to match this house. What a pain. Just sitting right here I can count 9 major pieces that will have to be redone. Luckily, I really enjoy furniture refinishing.

Dropping Like Flies

2006-05-21T20:12:00.000-04:00

There was hardly anyone in the choir this morning. Not sure where everyone was. Unfortunately, many of the people who were there escaped early. I did this, in a way, myself. At the end of our offertory, as we were beginning the presentation hymn, I collapsed. I wasn't feeling ill or anything, just, all of a sudden, I fell into CD and then landed on the bench (could have been much worse!). I tried to clear my head and stand up again, but back down I went, pretty quickly, and there I stayed. I couldn't focus my eyes or stop the world from swimming in front of me. I was very afraid that I wouldn't be able to walk all the way (8 feet?) to the sacristy door, so I just stayed put and didn't stand up. Eventually, my vision settled a little--I could focus my eyes even though everything was still swimming. I sang the communion hymns, even. Then, my conductor happened to be sitting on the other side of me (dunno why), and I told him that I was not going to process out, but would "sneak" out through the sacristy, since I knew there was no way I could walk down that long aisle without holding onto the pews (or random parishioners' arms), and especially not whilst holding a hymnal and folder. I was surprised I made it to the sacristy as it turned out.

The good news: unlike previous "episodes," I did not immediately projectile vomit then desperately need to sleep, and I didn't make a big scene or hurt anyone when I fell over.

The bad news: it was still a bit of a scene to those who noticed, I have a troubling tremor in my hands now, which prohibits me from things like writing and makes very typing very difficult, and I am embarrassed.

My lunch dates took good care of me though. They took care of my car (absolutely no way I could drive), ferried me about, and lent me steady arms and friendly hands for traversing parking lots and stairs. I am grateful.

I HAVE to make a priority list for renovating my new house. Also, a budget. Also, a list of contractors to interview.

Bombay

2006-05-16T11:42:00.000-04:00

My flaky friend finally came through yesterday and we had a nice afternoon, also discovering that another friend lives right here in my building. These are the first people I've let inside my awful apartment and neither was horrified. Comments included, "this is exactly what I expected of you," and "wow, you have furniture." The first is from a guy with an alarmingly well-tuned eye for style and the second is from a student unaccustomed to grown-up furniture.

The contract on my new house still isn't signed. There was some kind of medical emergency so they're going to try again late this afternoon. I really wish this was settled.

Bought two cheap handbags at Target last night after dinner with the flautist. I like them a lot.

I think I'm not going to go on the retreat tomorrow. I feel like I want to stay here and would now be going on the retreat mostly to fulfill my obligation and because it's "good for me." Those are not good reasons to go and will probably prevent me from getting out of the experience as much as I would want.

I'm very hungry and all there is to eat is salad and the makings for lamb ragout. I don't want either of those. Golly, but I'm hungry!

I cannot wait to put together my new kitchen!!! I think I'll have an island covered in zinc so as to wall off a "hall" from the back door. That will permit some extra lower cabinets. I think I'll run the cabinets up to the ceiling like in the old Trinity kitchen, but I'll probably only do that on the interior wall facing the door. I might do them in a color. Like maybe dark dark wood for the base cabinets and a quiet green for the wall cabinets? That sounds really beautiful and appropriate to me. Still, with 14 foot ceilings, that's an AWFUL LOT of cabinets. Might be a bit much. Might not. I'll need lots and lots of fancy interior fittings in the base cabinets since I won't have a pantry. I think the weird tiny closet where the water heater is could be fitted with a deep and tall cabinet for a broom closet. Not ideal, but might as well use what space there is. I'm going to put the washer and dryer upstairs on the sun porch. I think I could turn the wacko-under-the-stairs half bath into a full one that makes more sense. The problem with it is that the door and the area with the sink are normal height, but then you have to crouch down under the FIVE FOOT CEILING to get to the toilet at the far end of the room. That's no good. I'd prefer to move the toilet right up close to the sink, then put a whirlpool bathtub at the far end of the room where the toilet is, under the window. However, I'd like to drop that bathtub through the floor a fair bit so that the base of the tub is lower than the floor (there's a crawlspace, there should be room). That seems to me a much smarter use of the space, and would provide a second bathing facility to the house. Even if it downstairs.

I have researched the floors of this house. What I will need to do (before painting but after ripping out the kitchen and baths) is to rent one of those big floor machines. I apply a liquid wax stripper, touch up the stain, then apply new wax and buff it up with the big buffer. I can't wait for that part. How do you do stairs? By hand? Not sure about that part.

I also plan to cut a big crescent of a driveway in the front of the house. The front of the lot is enormous and there is no parking for the house now. It needs to be wide enough for two cars to pass and will be lusciously planted on the sides with overlapping daylilies and hosta and artemisia and other wonderful plants. The garden between the drive and the house will be a low border with sweet blooming woods and herbaceous stuff. The garden between the drive and the street should also be low, may include a lawn, and should require almost no care. Tall order. I haven't thought about the back yet. Curb appeal is so important. I'd also prefer to use the wonderful front porch and door and entrance room as the main entrance for guests and for me.

I'm really excited about getting to work on this house. I may paint all the ceilings the color of a Bombay Sapphire gin bottle. I'm positively in love with that color.

Making Matters Worse

2006-05-14T10:25:00.000-04:00

I checked the status of my grad school application late late last night, hoping to cheer myself up. Bad move. "Rejected." If I lose this house tomorrow, that will pretty much be everything I've been counting on. Oh, maybe somebody could let me know that HeartThrob and UnsuitableGirlfriend are engaged. That would really do me in. I'm really very very upset about school even if it does make my life a little easier. No school eliminates my hope of getting out of this awful library work. Now I'll probably have to agree to full-time library crap.

Or perhaps I should take this as a sign to work more on writing/publishing? A beautifully published first novel with a good review from Kirkus might be better than a big blue hood, I suppose. I could probably be as excited about buying new furniture for my new house as I would be about choosing linguistics classes for the fall. Doesn't last as long, though.

Happy Crappy Birthday

2006-05-13T14:30:00.000-04:00

I'm 31.

Yesterday, I signed a contract on my pretty-close-to-dream house. 1905, Arts and Crafts, 7 fireplaces, wide plank oak floors, wrapped front porch, 14 and 12 foot ceilings, huge front and back gardens. Roof and both HVAC units are all less than 5 years old. Needs an entirely new kitchen and bath, no structural work.

My parents hate the address. Mom loved the house, Dad didn't see it, not that that stopped him from ringing me up (for the first time in months) and railing at my for 45 minutes. I haven't told them I signed the contract.

Pinched a nerve in my back yesterday which has me in tears from the pain and unable to walk upright. It would have caused me to cancel last night's plans if I'd had any. It's worse today. Not that I have any plans today either. It's not like it's a special day or anything. Oh, wait.

Just got an e-card from my best friend, who stopped speaking to me about six months ago. I don't believe I'll open it quite yet. I don't think I can take any more disappointment.

When I woke up this morning and hobbled into the kitchen to scavenge for food I didn't have to cook, I hobbled into a big puddle on the floor, warped laminate flooring, a flood stain on the wall, and a big nightmare. I thought it was the dishwasher I recently "fixed" so cleaned up the water, grabbed a jar of peanut butter and a spoon, and went back to bed. A couple of hours later, there was a new puddle and I tracked the source to the hot water heater, though I couldn't find a leak.

So now, I'm spending my sick day dressed and sitting upright in a chair and my birthday babysitting a plumber who is going to install a brand new water heater for the bargain price of $1400. Aren't water heaters more like $500? Geez. I'm definitely installing a tankless water heater in my new house. The whole idea of these giant tanks of water sitting around insults my ecological, my germ-o-phobe, and my rare book sensibilities. Constantly reheating water is stupid and is asking for bacterial and fungal growth. Giant vats of water sitting around is just asking for a flood too. To make things even worse, my mother is coming over to sit and watch the plumber with me and she's just about the last person I'd like to spend my birthday with. I'd actually prefer the plumber, who, by the way, is mildly retarded. Not that I'm qualified to diagnose that. I can definitely assess, however, that he is at least "a little slow."

And, to really polish off the day, BB has not yet made good on an agreement we have and there is $200 and my hopes for a decent birthday riding on it. He's flaked on this before. If he does it again today I don't know what I'll do. It's not going to be good.

To think that I put off a couple of friends who offered to celebrate in favor of a retarded plumber, my mother, a pinched back, a huge puddle, and a big check. Way to go, me. This bodes so well for the year to come.

Abracadabera--everything fixed!

2006-05-08T20:56:00.000-04:00

I've been camping out here in this apartment for a year and a half, though I expected it to be closer to three months. I have unpacked very little (linens, appliances, dishware, glassware, BOOKS, music, clothes) in that time. Also, I have not bothered to fix all the various broken/not particularly well-working problems. I have not lubricated the windows, replaced the toilet flappers, upgraded the laundry appliances, replaced the drooping refrigerator door gasket, etc. However, in the last week, I have fixed BY MYSELF (with the Internet) both the dishwasher and the garbage disposal. HURRAY FOR ME! These repairs make my life much easier. Additionally, I bought myself a rather smashing set of computer speakers and, while this isn't exactly a repair, I file it in the same category--it improves my lifestyle dramatically. For a year and a half I have only been able to listen to music through headphones (off the computer or the iPod) or in the car (iPod or radio). With these speakers, I can listen to my wonderful music collection (most acquired since moving since I haven't unpacked my CDs), read my audiobooks, and listen to my old friends at WAMU at home. I'm beside myself with joy. I almost don't care whether my subwoofer shakes the downstairs chandeliers.

I collected final papers today for my composition class and several students did not show up. I'm alarmed. This paper is in lieu of a final exam and I cannot understand it being too difficult to come to the classroom and hand in a paper. I don't especially want to read these papers. The ones I care about I've already read in draft form, and I'm afraid that I "checked out" of this course awhile ago, with a few bright moments since. Of course I will read and grade the papers and had better do so tonight or tomorrow. Grades are due Wednesday. I'll have a couple of hours to do it on Wednesday morning, but I'm pretty booked until Thursday evening otherwise.

Yesterday, I got rejected by the Ontario Review. I was secretly hoping that they would be the ones who would eagerly accept my story. However, now I can claim that I'm a big publishing failure because Joyce Carol Oates doesn't like me. I still really like her though. So, that makes the following journals that have so far rejected this story: Ontario Review, New Yorker (but rejected with a really nice phone call), Paris Review, Threepenny Review.

I went to Wal-Mart today, partly looking for cheap speakers and partly to buy more crappy workout clothes for next week's retreat (9 days away). I had a pile of crappy clothes and a printer cartridge on the conveyor belt. When I was signing the credit card machine I saw from my peripheral vision the cashier put something under her register--clunk. I checked my bags when I gathered them (something I NEVER do), and there was no printer cartridge. I asked if she had rung it up and she said "No" and pulled it back out from under the counter. She had already started to ring up the next customer, but she voided that, rang my cartridge, and I paid for it. She handed the item to me with a wad of receipt and never once apologized or instructed me to have a nice day or anything. I don't expect much out of Wal-Mart employees, and I'm not really mad, but I am desperately curious just what exactly this woman was thinking. Do printer cartridges not go with crappy clothes? Were the crappy clothes enough for me to buy in one trip? Did she want to save the printer cartridge for someone more important? To be clear, the cartridge was at the very bottom and directly underneath my pile of crappy clothes. It could not have been mistaken to be someone else's shopping. I really don't understand what happened.

I'm nervous as all get out about next week's retreat. I've got crappy comfortably clothes and a new zafu and driving directions. I'm horrified to learn that accommodations are dormitory style. I'm not confident in my ability to complete the training sanely or comfortably. I'm trepidatious about the food. However, I'm also very curious and eager about it all.

My colleague has prepared a participant survey to gather opinions on last week's annual general membership meeting. One question is going to yield data indicating that I'm a terrible speaker. I'm really quite a good speaker as long as I give a crap about the subject, and last week I just didn't. I cannot sell something I don't believe in or care about.

I ruined my beautiful gold-gilted, leather bound hymnal on Sunday, running after an angry soprano in the pouring spring rain. I wanted to help her, and did, but I'm annoyed about the hymnal. I'm professionally trained to treat exactly such an event, however, I'm inherently lazy and I forgot to perform the necessary actions on it yesterday when it happened. Way to go, me.

Got a wonderful idea for a new story Friday night. "Marching Band Jesus" is the phrase that arose in the moment, but I think a more successful title might be, "And Jesus Plays the Tuba." It's going to be about a weird, geeky, silent boy with long hair and sandals who plays the tuba, is the most unpopular member of the high school marching band, and who is involved in coincidences that look like miracles to the rest of the brass section. I think the football team might start to rub his belly for luck before games. It sounds more marketable than my usual fare of too smart suicidal young women at odds with the universe, right?

I'm panicky about my upcoming birthday. I'm very much looking forward to being something other than 30, but nobody special is planning anything nice for me, and this makes me very sad. Why should this year be any different, I guess. Of course it's positively unseemly to plan something myself and issue invitations. Instead, I will plan something just for me probably. However, I have been craving something that Badass Baritone has so far failed to provide, and announcing my wish in reference to my birthday might be a good way of getting it. I am timid in this endeavor. I don't especially want a regular homemade cake this year, but I'm not sure what else. Cheesecake doesn't sound very good; pie doesn't sound good; chocolate mousse sounds pretty good; ice cream cake sounds pretty good. Restaurant/bakery fancy cake sounds pretty good. Acquiring any of it myself sounds BAD.

Fiddle-dee-dee

2006-04-26T23:26:00.000-04:00

I had a wonderful time last night. I met New Best Friend and a colleague at my favorite bar. We ate bad food and heard a great band and told stories and laughed and had fun. New Best Friend told me he loves me. Of course it's not a romantic relationship, and it happened during a conversation about shoe propriety, but it was not flippant and it means a lot to me. I responded with goofy smile. I could do a lot worse. I may start a collection of "I love you"s from men.

I made chili. It's late in the season, but there were thunderstorms predicted and it sounded good. I made it with sirloin chunks and kidney beans and Guiness and Dutch process cocoa. Cinnamon, cumin, paprika, ginger. Fire roasted tomatoes. It's really tasty. Also made some Yankee cornbread. It's more than I've cooked in weeks and my entire house and being are steeped and infused with the rick and tangy scent. I should shower.

Made an offer on a sweet little bungalow in downtown this morning. All signs point to my bid being rejected outright (30% under the asking price, which is more than fair, considering the necessary repairs), but I'm dumbly hopeful. Maybe my contract will find the owner in just the right mood of giving up.

I bought a lot of booze at the liquor store today: giant sizes of my favorite upscale bourbon, and vodka. Since it's after Easter, I also got a huge bottle of top shelf gin. However, I'm currently enjoying my second Scarlett O'Hara of the evening--a cocktail I've just discovered and made of Southern Comfort with cran juice and lime. It's definitely what a talented tenor I know would call a "bitch drink." It's very girly.

Lordy, but my kidneys hurt.

Rainy Days and Birthdays

2006-04-25T09:10:00.000-04:00

In eighteen days I will have survived this terrible year of being thirty. Well, it started out terrible, but is ending reasonably pleasantly. Thirty-one just sounds like an easier age to be. Thirty-one doesn't require apology or explanation the way thirty does.

My sister-in-law is the first person who has asked me about plans for my birthday. I thought that I was going to be away in India for a meditation course, but I was off by a few days. Actually, the school placed me into a course to be held in Florida, not quite as exotic a destination as India, but somewhat cheaper for me to get to. So, if I had been accepted into one of the courses in India, I probably would be there for my birthday, but, since I only have to drive to Jacksonville, I can wait a few more days before I go. That's all well and good, but it leaves me no easy way to avoid my birthday.

I have a rather nice batch of friends with whom I could spend my birthday this year. I have been to several meet-up-at-a-bar type parties in the last few months, and I think I could enjoy something like that, if someone would organize it on my behalf. Not sure I'll let that happen though. I do not enjoy being the center of attention or the target of pity.

I think I will ask my parents to have my favorite chair reupholstered as a birthday gift. I would also like to have slightly longer legs put on it. Too much furniture is designed for people shorter than 6'. I'm thinking purple leather--how's that for impractical? If someone would give me HeartThrob for my birthday, that would be a very welcome gift. Are you reading this, New Best Friend? Threesome Twosome? Tractor Girl?

I am trying to determine whether to bid on a little house here in town. It's sweet and needs work and is on a street that makes me smile and people would definitely come visit and I could have casual dinner parties and always have people dropping by to have a beer or drop off a book or whatever. I like that. Also, it has quite a spectacular (if messy) back garden. I think the asking price is about $40,000 too high, but I don't think my agent is going to let me bid that low. We'll see. Still, it would be awfully nice to go ahead and settle this and start hiring contractors and ordering cabinets and shopping for window coverings. I'm dying to unpack my books.

I bought a new inner tube for my bike tire and intend to fix the wheel. I have hardly touched by bike since the unfortunate incident of the tire mangling. That was the last day that Bill kissed me. I haven't had the stomach to imagine biking without him until just recently. There's a short but lovely paved trail alongside out canal that I intend to ride. I also want to dig out my in-line skates and take those down there, although I'm afraid of making an idiot of myself. I would love to move fast on all those wheels, and to streamline my body whilst doing so. My life would be so very nice if only I weren't so huge.

Started M's baby's quilt last night. I cut out the squares for a Kite's Tail pattern. I have five pairs of colors. The squares are polka-dots and the backgrounds for those squares will be tone-on-tone solids of the dotted cloth. I'll do stripes. 8 squares wide by ten stripes long. Two stripes of each color. I think it will be nice. All the cloth is flannel cotton and it washed beautifully! I think I'll piece the back too, but I figure I should complete one pieced top before I could determine the size of the back. Anyway, that will give the new parents a choice of which pattern they prefer. And it's not like I have anything in mind to use up all this leftover circus-colored flannel. Might as well put it in the quilt.

The Quality of Mercy is Not Strained

2006-04-23T15:47:00.000-04:00

Went to sing, despite my irrepressible cough and congestion. There was magic happening during our offeratory. That doesn't usually happen and it was lovely. I wish I hadn't been running late for rehearsal.

Lunch with Goth Girl, New Best Friend, and the Badass Baritone. I had a lovely, wonderful time and SO enjoy having people who call me and play with me and buy me drinks and such. It's been awhile for that. I have plans with New Best Friend (Tuesday) and with Badass Baritone (Wednesday) for later this week. Can't wait. Yay life!

I'm worrying about Goth Girl.

A Four Hour Dinner in Which I Can't Hold My Wine

2006-04-21T23:18:00.000-04:00

Lovely meal. Plain old salad, nothing special with far too thick and tough "special" kitchen made crackers. Bleugh. We had the only Australian white on the list which was from a very pedestrian Eastern winery that I don't much care for. Had there been a decent Italian or even German, I would have gone for that, but everything else was Napa. I don't do Napa.

Lovely evening nevertheless. I learned a lot more about my new best friend, which is wonderful, but he also fed my appetite for scandalous gossip on people we know. I now have confirmation from four different sources that HeartThrob is a coke head. He's also a "functional alcoholic." I am old enough and wise enough to know that getting involved with a person with such problems is a BAD IDEA. New Best Friend decrees that HeartThrob would make an excellent fling/transition from my multi-year period of DEEP MOURNING, but that he is absolutely not an appropriate choice for any sort of lasting, meaningful, rewarding relationship. I am old enough and wise enough to know that I should not hitch my wagon to someone who needs "fixing" and who I don't trust unconditionally. However, I still find HeartThrob POWERFULLY attractive and would attach myself to him in an instant on invitation.

Tonight I am going to attempt to change out my nostril piercing. I'm really supposed to wait another three weeks, but it's been four and a half months and I really hate this original piece and am DYING to get my little platinum and diamond piece in there. Besides, it's not cystic or infected or scabby for a change. Plus, I'm pretty drunk and less nervous about the undertaking than I would be normally.

Golly but I'm hungry.

I told New Best Friend that my ex looks exactly like John Hannah, which he does, and New Best Friend was VERY IMPRESSED. I could have been a very lucky girl indeed, but, instead, I ran away from home, left my job and friends, sold my house, and moved 500 miles away to start over. I have done so, slowly, and with some success. Yet, I spent my Friday with my NEW BEST FRIEND instead of a new boyfriend or HeartThrob. I had a good time though.

I think I may be racially incapable of playing slide guitar. I don't know how Clapton does it. I'm sure it can't be that I'm a musical idiot. No, definitely not that.

Quilts! for Babies!

2006-04-20T12:03:00.000-04:00

MDG and DG are expecting their first child and are permitting me to make them a baby quilt. I have chosen to do it in flannels and happened across these delightful polka dots, which I will be combining with matching tone-on-tones somehow. The patchwork pattern, I'm not really sure about yet. There is a chance that I will just riff on the theme of rectangles and hodgepodge a bunch of different sizes somehow. I'm also considering a log cabin or attic windows or stripes. What with all the dots, I don't really want a whole lot of straight line seams everywhere. I wish I had a clear idea for it, but maybe it will come to me when the fabric arrives.

I have been savagely attacked by the allergy monster again. I'm not sure if it's something new pollenating outside or if it's the stale, moldy air in this horrible building where my office is. It onset very quickly Tuesday afternoon.

Going to play golf with RET on Saturday if it doesn't rain. Hurrah! Maybe just the driving range, though... it's certainly my weakest skill. Social literacy standards require that I have a respectable golf swing. Plus, two of my new friends golf.

I think I fixed my dishwasher yesterday. Well, fixed it enough that, if I carefully rinse all dishes before loading them in that infernal contraption, then they'll come out mostly clean. Ungreasy, at least.

Going to get four new tires for my car today. SW will be so pleased.

How do I love thee?

2006-04-18T09:21:00.000-04:00

I love my nephew/godson. On Saturday, I took him to the zoo. I took him on the endangered species carousel (we rode an endangered ape of some sort), I fed him syrupy purple frozen treats, he fed me soggy Cheerios, we fed nectar to some chirpy brightly-colored exotic birds. We petted a llama and a cow. He insisted on staying for the entire birds of prey demonstration. Finally, sun-toasted, soggy, sticky, and sleepy, we hiked out to the car at the end of the dusty parking lot, only to find one of my back tires completely flat. I accidentally taught my sweet twenty-month old nephew a very bad word.

At least I knew where the spare tire was. I pulled it out all by myself, opened the included baggy of helpful tools, handed those tools to my nephew, one by one, asking repeatedly if Nephew knew what each one was for. I sure didn't. Nephew chewed on the big brass eyehook screw thingy while I started to read the instructions. Two men reluctantly approached me, saying that their wives saw me reading directions for the jack, and would I like for them to help me. I'm very bad at admitting to anyone that I need help with anything, ever, but I'd already gotten some mysterious, icky, greasy smudge on my lovely hands, yuck, so I eagerly accepted their assistance. One of the men had put himself through college by working for AAA, and not only changed the tire and loaded the busted one in the car, but he diagnosed the cause of the flat and checked the other three tires, and told me how serious the problem was and how much it might cost to repair (EEK!). Then, after they refused any money and returned to their car, they pulled up behind me and the AAA guy reminded me not to drive more than 50 mph until I got a replacement tire. Instead of letting me buy them lunch of a case of beer, they requested that I take the favor and "pass it on."

I love helpful parking lot strangers with practical skills that I don't possess who encourage me to be a better person. In the last two weeks, I have helped two of my friends by introducing them to each other. I have a very dear friend whom I've adopted as my (older, very small, Italian) sister, whose family I lived with for far longer than I needed to mostly because I just love them so much, whose husband I admire and adore, and whose children I brag about to all who will listen. This friend is perpetually short on money and staff in her book and paper conservation business. I have a new friend who I barely know but with whom I share several interests and who is at the beginning of a career that I have had for some years and who I have tried to advise. This new friend sought my advice on summer housing in my old city where she has a fellowship. I have arranged for her to live with my other friend and to have a second fellowship in her conservation studio, a resume attribute that will be invaluable when she enters the job market next year. This week, I arranged for another new friend, one who is earnestly attempting to stave off debt-collectors but who has failed to avoid eviction, to housesit for my other new friend this summer, when she goes off to live with my old friend. This way my very poor friend will have three months to save money and get back on her feet, my other new friend will know her home here is safe and will have a great place to live in DC for a few months, and my old friend will get some extra income and staffing. Works great for everybody and I feel good about making it happen, even though all I had to do was pay attention and make a couple of calls.

I love my friends. I have these new friends now, since I moved 500 miles away and renounced my previous home, career, lover, lifestyle, and mental health. When I came here, I spent a few months lying around wondering just what in the heck I was supposed to do with the rest of my vacant, empty life. I eventually emerged (very slowly) and began experimenting with activities I'd let fall to the side in my misguided and unconscious pursuit of the life I'd just renounced. I started to sing again, just to see whether I could still do it and if I still liked it. I could and did, and that month-long experiment earned me an audition and position in a prestigious local choir which, for the last eight months, has taught me an awful lot about music and myself, and has given me a gaggle of new friends--some close and dear, some casual, and some somewhere in between. This last Sunday was Easter, just about the biggest day of the year for this choir, and I spent the whole day with these new friends. There were hugs and backrubs and well-wishes and kisses and smiles and compliments and a communion of effort and talent and intention that is too rare in this world. To be a cog in an successful ensemble is to receive a piece of living poetry and is a joy so precious. I am very accomplished in personal achievement, and that's wonderful, of course, but it's not the same as sharing that success with someone. And that, right there, is my signature issue and the real reason I consider myself incomplete while I lack that permanent partner. This is why I am perpetually lonely. However, my music friends have been great company this holy week. I spent Monday in one of their courtyards, drinking beer and playing games with three or four others. I spent Tuesday in my favorite pub, listening to a band and telling stories with four or five of them. I spent Wednesday in rehearsal with all of them and Wednesday night in a restaurant talking deeply with two of them. I spent Friday performing with them and Friday night at dinner with three of them. On Sunday I performed with all of them for three services (for five hours) and ate breakfast with all of them then ate lunch with two of them then cuddled with one of them. That one called this morning to check whether I had replaced my bad tire and to remind me that it was dangerous to drive with the temporary one and to say that he wanted me to be safe. Ladies and gentlemen, THAT is my kind of love. Love is making sure her tires are safe and his socks are clean.

Joss requested love poems on Johnny Depp. I wrote this:
My Depp, he is quick keen, sweet earnest as
The thirst of sun-burnt youths afloat on docks.
The fiery stars and frozen sea like jazz
In turn arise, his eyes, like bourbon'n rocks.
His mouth, his face, are soulful, ardent, and
Alert. His sentience (loving, kind) is bare,
As pure as tempting, young seductors' glands
New loosed on hags, who, sad, sought such in prayer.
Though youthful, fresh, he's yet neglected, dog-
Eared, coarse. His hair, his clothes, fall free, relaxed.
A plebeian soubrette, though also fogged
With airs of wise and weary wit too taxed.
It's not his hair or stance we beauty call,
But soul and gut combined, result of all.

(With thanks to the master, Alexander Pope)

However, Johnny Depp doesn't care whether my tires are safe.

Blarney

2006-03-20T17:04:00.000-05:00

On Saturday morning I drove up to XYZ to attend a shape note sing. I haven't done this since I left central Virginia, quite a few years ago. There were only a handful of people younger than 50 there and we met in a conference room. It was a very different experience from when VC and I used to go to those little mountain churches. I also ended up sitting next to a completely tone deaf old lady who demanded that I share my books. Nevertheless, I'm glad I went and I hope I'll have company next time.

On the way back, I went to the ZYX lunch and it was awful. I really like that place, but this was just bad. The "a-plenty" was undercooked and I got the wrong burger. I didn't know about either of these problems until I'd gotten back into my car and pulled onto the interstate to drive home. Oh, and the tea was much too watery and bitter.

I took a nap.

I woke up in time to give myself some fabulous super-model hair, all full of curls and waves and sexy tendrils and stuff and then went to the only middle eastern restaurant in town for the surprise party given by a friend of mine for a man I'd never met. It would have been a pretty good party, except that 1. I am anti-social, 2. I was all worried about what was going to happen later that night, and 3. I got trapped in monologue by a twerpy descendant of a very old Hugenot family. No kidding? She talked non-stop for 42 minutes about well-drilling regulations and acid reflux. I was rescued by my new best friend who escorted me swiftly across the room and then out of the restaurant in a cloud of amusing conversation. I should buy that man a beer.

In my ongoing mission to claim my long-term crush, HeartThrob, I went down to my favorite bar to hear his band, playing as part of the big St. Patrick's Day festival. They were really great and I was impressed-as-all-get-out with myself for being brave enough to get it up and go to a bar by myself. I finally spotted HeartThrob's UnsuitableGirlfriend sitting at a table with a fellow singer who I CAN'T STAND (it's mutual). UnsuitableGirlfriend is even pudgier than I remembered from the first time I met her, which gives me even greater hope of taking her place. I couldn't stand to sit there by myself, high-fiving drunk college boys as they walked by until the third set, and HeartThrob disappeared after the second set, so I decided to go home. I was VERY disappointed and on my way to becoming hysterical about it when I walked out of the bar and right into my last fling.

He saw that I was upset, kissed me, then took my hand and took me four doors down to his bar. He kicked someone off a stool in the corner then planted me on it and brought cocktails continuously for hours until I was about to fall off the barstool altogether. He drove me home, unlocked my door, and set my alarm clock then went back to work (until dawn). He set the alarm because we work together Sunday mornings, singing for a church. When I finally stopped snooze-buttoning I had a mouth full of fur, an elephant stomping inside my skull, very rumpled clothing, and a nearly visible aura of cigarette smoke, stale beer, and sweat; I also had no time or energy to clean myself up very much. For the first time EVER, I went to church in cowboy boots, jeans, and black satin. That's the beauty of choir robes--all I had to do was brush out my hair and fix up my eye makeup and I would look passable.

The entire choir was painfully hungover. We were standing outside before the service, lining up for the procession when someone told a funny story and I laughed, which made me gag and then puke in the shrubs. I am nothing if not graceful and elegant. We made a train wreck out of the psalm and probably got our assistant director in a heap of trouble for it. I should buy him a beer too.

Working 9-5

2006-03-02T13:04:00.000-05:00

Yesterday afternoon, I met my colleagues for drinks, partly in celebration of our office manager's last day, and partly as a planning session for this morning's supervisor evaluation. Our current and incoming executive board chairs wanted us, the staff, to provide information for our executive director's annual evaluation. The beer was excellent, the company was good, and the conversation was depressing.

This morning's meeting went fine. We said a lot of things that have been said before, but not in so official a way or to these people. One of us cried, and, for once, it wasn't me. I'm not sure what will come of it, but I think the argument for "gross incompetence" could be made if someone wanted to. It really is a matter of whether anyone wants to go to the trouble.

By the time I had to leave happy hour for rehearsal last night, driving, even four blocks, didn't seem like a very good idea. I should have a better handle on my limits, but I don't. So, I walked the four blocks, which was not a big deal, of course, but which left me with blisters and far far too warm to be socially advisable. I was already flushed from the beer and it was 80 degrees. I sang out WAY more than I usually do, inhibitions inhibited, which was fun and which clearly impressed some people around me (yay). I did something quite foolish during our break, however, grabbing my last fling by the arm, squashing my nose into his bicep, and declaring him to smell "delicious." He'd just smoked a cigarette. It was very dorky and weird and all due to beer. Shame, shame, shame.

I'm terribly tired. I'm starting to get that sleepy headache you get right at the top of your forehead (in my case, directly behind and to the right of my widow's peak). I'm also bored and would like to be doing SO MANY OTHER THINGS, principally, anything except sitting here in my library office.

Oh, PS, we all went to lunch after the evaluation (to decompress) and now I reek of grilled onions. I can almost see this wavering, shimmering, greasy cloud extending a foot or so all around me. I'm told that it can't be smelled, but I absolutely can smell it.

I have this brilliant idea for my new house, but it requires purchasing a large, open warehousy type of space that I've been looking for (for 15 months) but cannot seem to find. What I want to do is, in this huge warehouse, leave most of it lofty and open, but somehow still have a degree of privacy for my bedroom (and a guest room). My super-clever plan is to build the walls of these rooms of twinwall polycarbonate (the material I've planned to use for a conservatory) but wire them with side-glow fiber optic lighting, inside the panel channels. Turning on the light would make the entire structure glow with ambient light. Of course fiber optics lend themselves perfectly to dimming, shimmering, and coloring gels, so you could "redecorate" the room with every switch on/off if you wanted, or you could rotate through the spectrum (although, ewww). When the panels were lit, I think they would provide an adequate visual barrier for privacy. The best part, though, would be that you could choose the absolute most flattering light for yourself there in the place where you spend the most naked time. The light would be soft and non-shadowing, first of all, but you could also choose the right color (golden with a little rose) and brightness level. Thus, if nowhere else, you would always look as good as possible there in your bedroom. PLUS, when houseguests stayed too long, you could slap a green gel on their light and insist that they "just look so tired and ill!" to encourage them to go home. I also think it would look really neat from the outside too, sort of like looking at Christmas trees in windows when you drive by in the late, cold, winter night. Cozy.

My brother, who has been wanting to try some stuff with fiber optics, thinks my idea is SUPER, and I heartily agree with him.

I was having such a super great wonderful happy day yesterday, but nothing much came of it. I was so hoping that, and almost expecting, something remarkable and good to happen, that it was a real let down when it didn't. All things seemed possible, and I was so disappointed when 1. the New Yorker did NOT ring to say that my story was sensational and they wanted to rush it into the next issue, and by the way this agent friend of theirs had read my story too and could they give her my number because she wanted to get me a deal with St. Martin's, or 2. my real estate agent did not ring to say that there was an old cotton gin with attached brick warehouse on 13 acres in Calhoun County that was going to be listed for $30,000 but which I could buy tonight before it went on the market if I had the cash, or 3. HeartThrob did not ring me up, out of the blue, to say that he'd begged my number from KM and really wanted to get together because I sounded so interesting and he already knew I was gorgeous, and, by the way, he'd dumped his girlfriend because he was never so sure of anything so quickly, but he knew the moment he saw me that we were meant to be. See, that is disappointing, isn't it?! To believe that any of those things really was possible on so magical a day and then for none of them to happen. Gosh, it makes me even more depressed to think about it now.

I Can See Clearly Now

2006-02-28T21:47:00.000-05:00

Fresh contacts are stunning. Colors have never been this bright before; edges never so sharp, my hair so big and shiny and wonderful! Yeah, except for that last bit.

Remember the sad dark days before disposable contact lenses? I remember my first pair. I was twelve and I went to the ophthalmologist all by myself (for some very strange reason) there on Finchly Road. I couldn't insert them for the life of me. It took me an hour and the nurse got so fed up with me she had to leave the room. That night I couldn't get them out. Mom held down my eyelids while Dad stabbed his fingers in my eyes and popped them out. I got stern lectures on sanitation and not losing them since they were so expensive. These days I buy them in bulk and throw them away! I don't own a bottle of saline solution and I don't even know if they sell that de-calcification stuff (remember how much it burns when you squirt that directly into your eyes instead of the lubricating eye drops!) anymore.

I finally got disposable contacts because I broke up with my boyfriend and broke two pairs of specs by falling asleep in them. He always used to take them off when I fell asleep reading (and I was in graduate school, so this happened a LOT) and put them safely in their case. After I moved out, nobody took them off anymore and I smashed them on desks or rolled over on them sleeping in my bed, and other really smart things like that. So, I gave up my daily wear contacts and my specs and started with the nonstop wearable contacts. And a fresh pair are a lovely treat.

Up in the choir stalls on Sunday, MS asked me to make one of our baritones a character in my next story. Since I'm largely incapable of writing about anybody I haven't fallen in love with a little, this is a particular challenge. This man is in his 60s, snorts and snarfs like a warthog (I'm just assuming that warthogs make despicable noises to match their name), is gay, and lives with his mother. I told MS that I couldn't do it (this conversation is all happening DURING THE SERVICE, mind you) due to my handicap, and she was disappointed. I can't bear to see MS disappointed, so I'm having a go. In my story this man is the 60 year unrequited and oblivious love interest of a spinster parishioner lady. So, you see, I am not overcoming my handicap at all.

It was a strange Sunday. One soprano ran out crying, a baritone snuck in late, another baritone snuck out to see what was wrong with the soprano (his wife), two sopranos and an alto slipped out after the offertory, one alto crossed the aisle to the other side of the choir (most of the missing people had left just one side in a really obvious way that would have been problematic for the final procession), and a couple of us had to juggle the crying soprano's folder and hymnal in that procession (I'm paranoid about dropping my OWN hymnal when I process, so carrying a second frazzled me). Oh, and somewhere in there the soprano who hates me gave me a big smile and wink from across the aisle, mysteriously.

I applied for a second full-time teaching job today. This one is at the school where I adjunct. I don't know how in the world I could handle FIVE CLASSES per semester (and doesn't that just seem UNGODLY!), but I really want to get out of libraries (again). It would be different if I were a reference librarian or public services librarian, but, no, I fell into an extra-specialty in academic libraries. I hate being an expert. I think I'd be happier going back to school. There I'd only have to teach three classes a year. That would be better. And more poverty-stricken. With bad health insurance. Anyway, there's no sense in making this decision until they offer me the job, and they can't do that unless I apply, so...

I think my humidifier is stinky. I think I'm going to go give it a bath.

Voodoo Child

2006-02-27T23:17:00.000-05:00

I've spent the last three hours making one voodoo doll from scratch and improving on one I made earlier. This is exactly the sort of thing that, if anyone saw or even found out about, would render me officially "nuts." In my defense I must state that I have studied hoodoo in actual college classes and recreationally, so my own dolls should be viewed less suspiciously (or, perhaps, MORE suspiciously) than those of your average nut. There's some actual data behind my creations.

So, some time ago, I made a voodoo doll of me. She is made of two popsicle sticks (one raspberry and one grape), is stuffed with squiggly red yarn and a few cotton bolls, and has a big red felt heart under her rag dress in lavender. The dress is bound with lavender yarn. Tonight I removed the hairbrush-rescued hair that was tied to the top popsicle stick, glued on a flattering photograph for her face and glued the hair to the back of the photo. I made a tiny book (including an embossed cover and individual pages sewn in) and glued that to her hand.

Tonight's primary creation, though, was a HeartThrob voodoo doll. He's made with one strawberry and one raspberry popsicle stick, has squiggly red yarn innards and a matching red felt heart, but with my name written on it. He also has a very large and very hard lower male appendage made of a round rubber stamp of an arrow being shot into a heart-shaped target. He's wearing a rag suit of blue marbled print (one of the fireworks from Elizabeth's doctoral quilt) bound with red yarn. He also has a photo glued to the top for his head. I may make him a guitar to hold.

I have several ceremonies in mind for these two, including binding them to each other in various ways, but I'll need some pink candles first.

I'm hungry. I've been so good today! I didn't eat the pizza that I really wanted, I didn't eat any of the Cadbury's Dairy Milk that's sitting around tempting me, I ate strawberries plain and didn't even squirt canned whipped cream into my mouth when I took them out of the fridge. Likewise, I did not stuff a pinch of two of fancy shredded sharp cheddar cheese into my mouth. I gorged myself on strawberries and ate probably half a pound of collards, but those just aren't as satisfying as, say, a big drippy cheeseburger. I should work on thinking of HeartThrob's big hard piece everytime I want cheesecake or something, although that will probably only make me crave it all the more! I have sore places all over my body today. I lifted weights yesterday and ellipticalled today.

My hair is gorgeous today! It's a shame I haven't taken it out to show it off somewhere. Like to HeartThrob.

Bury the Child! PLEASE!

2006-02-24T22:59:00.000-05:00

I wasted away most of the day, accomplishing almost nothing. Rearranged the fridge, grocery shopped, scrubbed the tub. Blah, blah, blah.

Went to the first half of a fellow chorister's recital this afternoon. Her diction is excellent. Our conductor played organ for her and our head alto played piano while one of our baritones filmed it. It was a big festival of love. Everyone was there.

I ducked out early to have dinner with friends, one of whom had to be back for a rehearsal. After they told me another fantastically uncomfortable sex oriented story, the other one and I went to the theatre to see the WORST PLAY EVER (Buried Child)!

Including my little brother's 7th grade musical.

Lighting, okay.
Set, okay.
Costumes, bad.
Props, bad.
Makeup, bad.
Script, bad.
Sound effects, bad.
Acting, TERRIBLE.

Plus, the seats were so horrible I had to stand up for the entire second act. My knees were hurting so badly I was actually crying. There simply wasn't enough room for legs as long as mine on either end of knees as bad as mine. Dreadful, dreadful, dreadful.

I am fantasizing about HeartThrob standing behind me, wrapping his arms around me, kissing my bare shoulder.

I am also fantasizing about a huge old school or church transformed into my new home. I found a great place, 38,000 s.f. former school, but it's in Anderson, almost 2 hrs. away. That just won't do. I drove around the Mill areas this afternoon to see if I could find an old ice warehouse or something for sale, but there was nothing. Although, I did find a quarry, which is a strange thing to discover downtown in your hometown when you're not expecting it.

I am also fantasizing about a musical career. Me, a competent pianist, a friendly recording engineer, and my album of lullabies (finally). Wouldn't it be something if HeartThrob and I did that when I got pregnant? I like that idea a lot. I'm still so bashful about performing though... I wish I could sing out as skillfully and enthusiastically in public as I do in the car or my dining room.

What I wish I were doing right now instead of sitting here (with aching knees) blogging:
1. Standing around a little stage in a bar, drinking a bottle of beer, with HeartThrob's arm around me,
2. Attending the Willie Nelson concert I intended to get tickets for but forgot,
3. Watching HeartThrob and our friends sitting around the living room joking and playing music while I get more pretzels from the kitchen,
4. Looking in the mirror to admire myself with Angelina Jolie's body,
5. Lingering over dinner at home with HeartThrob and Elizabeth and Marc, who've come to visit for a week,
6. Flying home to HeartThrob during a weekend break from the book tour for my WILDLY SUCCESSFUL first novel.

What I will do instead of these glorious things:
1. Soak my sore knees in my crappy apartment bathtub,
2. Have a couple of glasses of wine,
3. Try to learn our anthems for Sunday morning,
4. Play my gorgeous guitar and belt out a few folk songs.
5. Take some sleeping pills and collapse into my wonderful fabulous perfect bed.

Every Breath You Take

2006-02-22T23:12:00.000-05:00

Am (sadly) home too early from the HeartThrob show at the favorite bar. I didn't quite feel up to waving 'bye to my escorts and holding onto the 4-top table alone in so crowded a place. The band was great. However, though I enjoyed them tremendously, I would really have only stayed there alone in hopes that my HeartThrob would come sit and talk with me at the end of the second set. Unlikely, so it's okay that I left. Really. really. rrr.

So now I have FORMALLY met my HeartThrob, and have finally made use of the friendship I've nurtured since last June towards this end. I need to qualify that. I STARTED that friendship in order to finagle an introduction to my HeartThrob, but I've sustained that friendship for its own merits. ANYWAY, HeartThrob is less spectacularly gorgeous than I first thought, which is not to say that I now find him unattractive. Oh no, now I consider him more attainable, and that makes him even more attractive. He has an abnormally big mouth and very active lips. They were a little distracting and almost seemed disconnected from his teeth or something. Distracting and abnormal it may be, but it bodes very well for making out in a porch swing or other mouth-related activities... SO, he's friendly and funny and was really appreciative that we had come out to see them.

Perhaps more importantly, I met HeartThrob's girlfriend, and SHE'S LESS ATTRACTIVE THAN ME!!!!!!!!!!! Her hair is mousy blonde and frizzy, her face is blank and moony, her eyes are small and squinty, and she's a bad dresser. She's not as lumpy and bloated as I am, but she's no skinny, or even curvy, little girl. As much as I hate and despise my ugly, awful, fat, horrible self, even *I* would pick me over her. I may be a little bigger, but my hair is gorgeous, my eyes and mouth are lovely, and I have good style. Plus, I'm smart and interesting and well-read and clever. FrizBlob is... well, I only talked to her for 10 minutes or so, so she might be those things, but for the purposes of my fantasy life, let's just say that she's dumb and boring and pedantic and dull. The really important part of this is that she's fat, and I'm fat, and HeartThrob likes her well-enough, even fat, so POTENTIALLY he could like me without me having to starve myself into that size 8--he could like me if I was a 16! This alters my view of the universe. Perhaps I should craft a plan to overthrow FrizBlob and take HeartThrob for myself. Good idea? Suggestions? Support?

My friend (from the second paragraph) is friends with HeartThrob, but she's trying to discouraging my interest in him. She has done this by 1) pointing out his girlfriend then introducing her to me, 2) talking about how much both HeartThrob and FrizBlob stink, 3) insisting that HeartThrob is a cokehead. She has been so far unsuccessful in her discouragement. Instead, I'm increasingly convinced of the appropriateness of the match. She's proven that I'm better than his current girlfriend and that being with him could also solve my wish for a new local dealer too. Perfect!

Bon Voyage Little Story

2006-02-21T13:16:00.000-05:00

I am sending away my little story, "Billy at the Beach," to lit mags across the nation. Glimmer Train has already rejected it (of course), but I believe that it's a story that will be appealing to and acclaimed by at least one slush pile reader in this great world. Look out Carolina Quarterly, American Literary Review, Ontario Review, Ploughshares, Oxford American (if only!), Gettysburg Review, Threepenny Review, New Yorker, Virginia Quarterly, Tin House, Prairie Schooner, Nimrod, New Delta Review, Zoetrope, and Paris Review! Simultaneous submission policies be damned!

Here are some of the comments from my crit partners:
1. Well done. Reading this was a pleasure. You have a well-crafted story of a destroyed human being here in just as many words as necessary.
2. This is a very dense story for so few words (considering), and you really got a lot in here. Details are great, as are the scenes you've constructed.
3. What a sad, subtle piece. Your descriptive technique is exceptional, drove me to a point of envy.

And this is the comment I would like to have for a future cover blurb:

"This is a kind of story that does what any good story should should: grab hold of the cerebral cortex or the limbic system, or whatever part is responsible for fundamental visceral reactions, and squeeze like a vise. It's a story for which phrases like "exquisite pain" were designed. And it is exquisite. It depicts terrible pain with a kind of frantic slowness, measured and desperate and anguished and a little bit, for the reader, like being sliced very finely and very shallowly with sharp thin knives."

I am only a little embarassed to admit that I have visions of book contracts dancing in my head. Meanwhile, I have a few more story ideas I should work on.

Is it possible that short fiction is harder than long? Not the writing, necessarily, but the concept. I find it much easier to imagine carrying out a novel than I do a short story. The few novels I read anymore are, for the most part, little stories told with lots of words. The stories I write are, however, humungous stories told with very few words. I think the most artistically excellent writings are those huge stories told not quickly, but frugally. Take, for instance, Justin Haythe's first novel, The Honeymoon. It's both a huge, gigantic, long, old, neverending story and a miniature portrait story he's got there, but it's a teeny-tiny little book. Yet, it takes longer to read than something like Harry Potter or Dan Brown or (I don't mean to pick on popular writers really). Justin's book takes longer to read because half of what you're reading there isn't actually printed on the page. He writes his miniature portrait in his thin book, but the story he tells is enormous. I believe that this is the best sort of literature and is, in many ways, poetry. That's the stuff I seem to write and it scares the bejeezus out of me. Of course the other poetical ingredient is the use of language that is juicy and tender and spicy and that you want to keep around in your brain for a few minutes to analyze and memorize before you chew it up quietly and send it down to your soul for nutritional extraction. This is the kind of writing I aspire to.

Perhaps, though, I'm reading more into Justin's book than I should, and that's because I know him. Or, used to know him, anyway, pretty well, and I tend to read more carefully the books where I expect to run into a character or situation I've experienced. I suppose that other people choose their readings to find out about stuff they know nothing about (Dan Brown, Harry Potter again), but I usually choose books to find out about me. Selfish, selfish, selfish, I'm sure. I've read Dan Brown and Harry Potter though--I actually know more than a little about the library/archive parts of Dan Brown, and he makes me laugh. I don't know where I am in Harry Potter though. Feeling alone in the world and overburdened by having to save it when you still don't know how to chat up that cute student across the room? Maybe that's it.

So, I have asked my Tivo to please look out for any program featuring Mary Louise Parker since I adore her (especially her West Wing character, Amy, and especially if Amy is rocking out to Van Morrison on a lazy morning), and, recently, Tivo recorded something on the Hallmark Channel (gag), Cupid and Cate. Since someone mysteriously changed the title, I was a few minutes into the movie before it seemed familiar, and quite a few minutes in before I recognized it. It's Christina Bartolomeo's book, Cupid and Diana, featuring my very good friend David split into two completely different characters and including not a few people and places I know quite well.

Now I've forgotten why I brought that up. It's another case of a book I've read that features someone I know (though, in this case, not the author), but, in this case, I didn't even recognize the movie version of the book several years later and, clearly, didn't take away as much from the reading experience as I did from Justin's book. I guess this disproves, to some extent, my theory that, inherently, I get more out of books involving someone/thing I know well. Oh, nevermind.

I wish I could write like Ms. Bartolomeo, though I don't aspire to it. She has good stories and she tells them in a friendly way. I'm not too good with those things.

Tomorrow I will introduce The Definition Essay to my class of aspiring auto mechanics, paralegals, respiratory therapists, and bartenders. They're going to hate me even more than they do already. I have so small a response to their questioning of the value of such an assignment in their lives. They reject my argument for cultural literacy outright. Nevertheless, this was my second most successful lesson last semester, and I am looking forward to it. I ask the students, as homework preparing for the lesson, to look up their favorite words in three different dictionaries, write citations for the entries (to reinforce MLA style), and to choose their favorite definition and justify their preference. We spend most of the class cracking on each others' favorite words and talking about the many reasons to prefer one word over another and one definition over another. It's a successful lesson.

Also tomorrow, I have a choir rehearsal and then am going to see my heart-throb's band play at my favorite local bar. He doesn't know he's my heart-throb and I probably don't want him to know it until I have a new hair cut, am a perfect size 8, have my first book coming out in paperback and sold in England, and have finally bought my perfect farmhouse and ordered the trees for my orchard. Then again, I'd also like just to go ahead and drink some beers and make out with him on a slanty porch, other stuff be damned.

Friday, I have a date with a friend's husband, and yes, it's just as weird and creepy as it sounds.

Requiem

2006-01-29T19:06:00.000-05:00

Tonight the Choir, the Philharmonic (a few of them, anyway), and four soloists performed the Mozart Requiem (Levin edition). It went reasonably well, although lacking some in energy. On the way off "stage" our conductor congratulated every choir member except me. I was last out, but I'm still pretty sure it was a delibereate snub. What's that about, I wonder? I work really hard to learn the music, I have a lovely voice and decent technique, I make no major gaffes, I try to stay out of his way... I wonder what I've done that was so awful. I'm really quite hurt. So here I am at home, instead of at the "cast party" at the conductor's house. I was trepidatious about going to the party anyway--no date, not knowing/liking the core crowd of conductor's favorites who will certainly be at the party, uncomfortable at not being one of the best in the choir, etc. I can hardly say how much I would like to have felt really good about my performance, to get a kiss from my sweetheart after, and to go to the party and enjoy myself with people I like and who like me. While I'm being whistful, it would be nice to also be devastatingly gorgeous and successful too.

Too Big for a Crib

2006-01-05T16:50:00.000-05:00

Little Ed is too big for his crib, so it's been turned into a toddler bed.

Epiphany

2006-01-05T15:58:00.000-05:00

Happy 12th Day!

We'll be singing a service at 6 in the Cathedral--please come!